


We'll rise up

by WhiskyNotTea



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyNotTea/pseuds/WhiskyNotTea
Summary: 1789Claire and Jamie, both in their mid-twenties, live in Paris. During the attack on the Bastille, their lives are going to change forever...





	1. The storming of the Bastille

Claire knew it. She could feel it, through her throbbing heart. The time has come.

After all these years of struggling to survive in this uneven fight, it was time to rise up and fight back. To gain control and demand the rights that every human being deserves. They wanted a chance to live. And this time they wouldn’t ask for it kindly.

It was almost ten years now that Claire had tried to help and heal the people, all those that were treated like animals by the aristocrats. She had faced the poverty, the famine, devaluation of life and loss of hope. She was frustrated and angry. Destined to heal, all her work could be diminished in a moment just because an arrogant aristocrat believed that common people’s lives had no value at all. Because he thought they shouldn’t exist.

Claire had seen people dying from so many different causes and none of them really made sense. While the aristocracy was bathing in luxuries, common people were dying from cold and hunger, innocent in prisons, or even by accident because they disturbed the life of an aristocrat. She had seen with her own eyes five-year old Nicolas dying under the weight of a Monseigneur’s carriage just because he was in the wrong spot of the alley. However, none of them ever paid for his crimes. No one ever felt the pain that he caused, nor even cared. The world was theirs and they behaved accordingly. All this injustice was too heavy for Claire to bear. But bear it she would.

It was in the last five years that she noticed some changes in people’s behavior. The way they whispered, their meaningful glances. It was a bit of hope in a desert of despair and Claire could do nothing else but grasp on it. She needed it to survive, desperate as a thirsty man dreaming of a glass of water. The moment she found it, she reached for hope to forget her empty stomach and even emptier heart.

One day when she had tended little Marie who had developed a fever, Claire took the risk and asked the girl's mother, Louise, about the talk she heard. She knew Louise was an honest and kind woman and could enlighten her about the stirrings in the Parisian alleys and the increasing number of men calling one another “Jacques” and then talking intently. That was how she first found out about the upcoming revolution and the necessary planning needed before it could take place. They were bidding their time, Louise had said, waiting for the right moment.

This moment had come in Paris, in the year of 1789 and Claire’s heart was screaming: _Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité_. The world wouldn’t be “theirs” anymore. Everyone would have a piece of sky for themselves after the revolution. And a piece of bread to give their children.

Claire was part of the upcoming rebellion for some years now. She had realized soon enough that justice would be won through blood and there was no other way around it. She joined the rebels, giving to their purpose all the force of her existence. She participated in a women’s political club, distributed pamphlets and swore oaths of loyalty on her patriotic allegiance and responsibilities of citizenship. Being English-born didn’t help her being trusted but she was determined and managed anyway.

And on the morning of 14th of July in 1789, she was there.

The city of Paris was in a state of alarm. The rebels invaded the Hôtel des Invalides and without facing great opposition had gathered a significant amount of muskets. The gunpowder, however, was stored in the Bastille and the decision had been taken immediately. They were going to storm in the Bastille, which at the moment stand with its standard garrison of 82 veteran soldiers, reinforced a week ago by 32 grenadiers. But nothing was going to stop them.

It was a matter of few minutes. All kinds of weapons were immediately distributed around; from pikes and knifes to bayonets, muskets and powder. Everyone grabbed any object reminiscent of a weapon and fortified themselves with pure force. Then they headed towards the Bastille, forming a huge wave of bodies and leaving the streets empty behind. Claire hastily went in her room and collected her own weapon, her medicine box, already prepared from the night before. She became one with the mass, hearing the drums playing from somewhere in the crowd, in the tone of her heart. Turning her head around she smiled to Henri, Louise’s husband, who spotted her and smiled back. They were all in this together and Claire felt exited and determined. The small fragments of fear that hided occasionally in her heart had now disappeared and the only thing she felt was purpose. She could die, yes. But her death would have a meaning, because she now was part of something bigger than herself. Claire rose with the others against tyranny and for that she felt proud and courageous.

The closer they were to the Bastille she noticed that the solemn faces in the crowd were fewer and fewer. It seemed like everyone was going mad with revenge, without caring of human life anymore. Holding her box tightly, she tried to remain composed and resolved that she would save as many people as possible today. When they reached the Bastille, they gathered outside the fortress and demanded its surrender. Two representatives were accepted inside to negotiate, but the negotiations lasted way too long. In the early afternoon the crowd invaded the undefended courtyard and broke the chains of the drawbridge. The moment Claire got in the courtyard she heard the soldiers of the garrison shouting something unintelligible in her ears. There was too much noise and confusion around her while the men in the front decided to enter the prison.

It was at that time that Claire heard the gunfire. The guns pointing from the castle towers towards the crowd had fired. It seemed they were not allowed to move inside after all. In just a second, everything around her changed. Everybody changed. Every man and woman seemed to lose all sanity, like it had vaporized under July’s sun. Their inner beasts were freed.

“They trapped us!” men were shouting.

“Kill them all!”

“We are going in the Bastille one way or another! Go!” a woman with a ferocious flash in her eyes cried just behind Claire.

All individuality was lost and all she could see were savage faces forming a mob all around her. The picture scared her alright. But maybe that was the right thing to do, how would she know? They were supposed to fight to win. Well then, the fighting had started.

Holding her medical box Claire tried to get herself in a relatively safe area, so she could treat the wounded. She stood close to the stone wall and searched the mass for injuries. She didn’t stay at that spot for long, with the bloodshed that was unravelling in front of her eyes.

It was more than an hour later when two cannons and more men arrived to reinforce the attack. Claire didn’t realize how much time had passed. For her it could be mere minutes since the firing started. She instinctively moved towards the fallen men and women, trying to remedy their injuries as best as she could. They were many, too many more than she’d imagined. Almost two hours later the firing stopped and Claire found that she could breathe again. Governor de Launay finally realized that his men wouldn’t last much more defending the prison without any supplies inside. He offered his terms with a letter and even though his demands were refused from the attackers, the prison gates were opened.

In half an hour the fortress was liberated and everyone was ecstatic. People were laughing and singing and shouting while dragging De Launay towards the Hôtel de Ville. Claire looked at them and then looked around her, having a bittersweet feeling nestling inside her. She was of course elated with the outcome of the battle. _They had made it! This was the beginning of a great transformation for France!_

But looking at all these dead bodies and the wounded, she couldn’t but feel gloomy as well. How many more would they need to die, to gain victory? She had been used to the sight of illness and blood, of course, and had seen a lot of violence too. But it wasn’t in her heart to consent with cruelty. She was certain that the ending of De Launay was going to be a vicious one, so she stayed back in the courtyard of the Bastille, trying to help the wounded.

Claire was checking at the medical supplies left in her box, when a Scottish burr removed her from her thoughts.

“Come here, lad. Ye need help” the voice said.

Surprised, she raised herself, turned, and saw a gruff man with black hair and a beard that covered most of his face, leading a huge red-headed man towards her. She noticed the older man’s sad eyes and smiled to encourage him, while moving towards the wounded one. It was when she reached him that he raised his head and looked at her. Their eyes locked for a moment too long and Claire lost herself into his deep blue eyes, forgetting where she was.

“I told ye, I’m fine” the red-haired man replied without removing his eyes from hers. His lips lifted just a bit, in their way to form a smile.

Claire felt herself smiling back and lowered her head. This move allowed her to see the wound on his shoulder and suddenly she remembered the reason why she was in front of him. _Get yourself together Beauchamp! Where is your mind?_  she chastised herself.

“Let me see your wound”, she heard herself saying and felt glad that her voice was louder than the whisper she thought it would be.

“Aye”, the man said smiling a bit more this time, although Claire was sure he was in pain.

She looked around to find a place for him to sit and moved him towards an empty barrel fallen nearby. He was tall with broad shoulders and he seemed strong, but the moment she took her eyes from his Claire was alarmed by his face. He was very pale and she needed to be fast in assessing the damage on his shoulder. With tender hands she removed the outer layers of his garments and reached to remove the cloth above the wound, which was still oozing blood.

“Jesus Bloody Christ! You are still bleeding!” she said biting her lips.

“Seems so. Dinna fash lass, it’s no but a scratch”

“Huh! A scratch he says! Well, it is much more than this, I can assure you my lad. You need to be still for me to stop the bleeding and dress the wound” Claire said and saw him nodding with this little lopsided smile lingering on his face.

“Unfortunately I can’t cleanse it right now, because I ran out of my supplies. Would you mind coming with me to my place where I have a stock kept? I could work much more properly there” Claire said and it was when she heard her voice aloud that she considered what these two strangers may have thought of her. _Really, Beauchamp? Inviting them to your place?_  She looked in his eyes again and saw concern and something more in them. Challenge, perhaps?

“I don’t live far from here” she added, looking towards the older man. She was a healer after all and she was trying to help. Nothing wrong with that.

Claire continued the dressing of the wound (with the occasional cursing when the cloths slipped from her hands, since they were not the right size) and when finished she looked in the kind blue eyes again, raising an eyebrow in question.

“So, what do you say, Jacques?”

He looked the other man who responded with a plain “mmmphmm” that was the exact opposite of the Gallic sounds Claire was used to and could really mean anything.

“We’ll come with ye, Sassenach” the redhead said looking at her again. He stood up with a tiny wince from pain and held Claire’s hand so very lightly.

He then added with a grin on his face and mischief in his eyes “And it’s not Jacques, even though in France I suppose it is. It’s actually Jamie”

“Jamie it is, then. I’m Claire” she returned, tightening the hold of his hand a little before leaving it, to move a bit further away and gain some precious moments to force her heart to remain in her rib case.

“This way” she said, collecting her box from the ground and nodding towards the street she came from in the morning, or in a previous lifetime; she couldn’t really remember.

Turning her head to see if they followed, she saw two blue eyes smiling at her whisky ones.


	2. Saint Antoine

The Parisian streets were still empty since everybody had gone to Hôtel de Ville to see De Launay punished. The sun was still up in the sky but the heat of the noon had subsided and Jamie started feeling a bit cold. He noticed that Claire kept a relatively slow pace while they were heading towards her place and he was glad about that. In truth, he wouldn’t be able to keep up if she was going any faster and he supposed she knew it.

Jamie had lost a lot of blood before they had found Claire in the prison’s courtyard. The common colors of her clothing, with her white skirts and blue jacket didn’t really help her stand out from the crowd, but Murtagh was earnestly searching for someone to help them. He knew that Jamie wasn’t so lightly hit as he had pretended to be. Once again, his godfather was by his side to save his life, and a good thing that was.

Jamie was in so much pain that it would be impossible to find Claire in time on his own. He had focused on his breath, trying to keep it as normal as possible and couldn’t notice anything around him. Well, since he raised his head and saw Claire, that is. After that, it wasn’t the pain that blocked everything else. It was her eyes. _Ah Dhia, what beautiful whisky eyes, so full of compassion and kindness!_ The moment she smiled at him and immediately blushed he felt his insides curled up.

It was not just interest for the lass, he had felt that before with others. What he was now feeling was something new, vital and strong. He felt like it was necessary for him to be around her to breathe, even though just looking at her took his breath away. Was she the one for him then, as his father had told him? He already knew that neither the French lasses that came by his cousin’s wine shop, nor the Scottish lassie that his sister tried to match him with were the one he imagined himself with. What he didn’t know, till now that is, was that he imagined her. This English lass, found in the middle of all this stramash in Paris, tending his wound and cursing out loud.

The third time Claire said “bloody Christ” Jamie turned towards Murtagh, who was half-scowling and half-smiling with an amusement in his eyes. Jamie couldn’t restrain himself and kept smiling at her. Her unruly hair fell all around her ivory skin and a frown was marking her brow. A frown because of him. It took all the strength he had not caress her face to make the frown disappear and clean up the smudge of blood on her cheek. It also took uncountable repetitions of “Hail Mary” to restrain himself at all. Every time she touched him or looked at him his heartbeat accelerated and he begged she couldn’t hear it.

They continued walking and every now and then Claire looked towards him to be sure that he was ok. He vaguely noticed that they left the Bastille but remained in the eastern part of the city, the radical part. They were in Saint Antoine, where the majority of the rebels resided. Even though he saw that Claire kept no knife or any kind of weaponry on her, she was part of the revolution as any of the others that stormed the Bastille today. She seemed proud of it, but not blood-thirsty. He was sure of that, since she stayed behind and didn’t follow the others in the “fun” part after capturing De Launay. Jamie wouldn’t follow them either, wounded or not. Justice was one thing, incredible violence was another. So, here he was, in Saint Antoine, with Murtagh behind him having a worried face. They shouldn’t be seen here and were lucky that nobody was around.

“We will be there in less than five minutes. Are you alright?” Claire interrupted his thoughts with concern in her eyes.

“Aye lass, dinna fash, I’ll do.”

“I will fash as much as I want, until I treat you properly and be sure you are better!” she returned with determination in her voice.

Jamie felt safe. It was odd, after being shot, losing all this blood and walking in this particular neighborhood, to be relaxed. But as long as she was around, he felt that she could mend anything and kept the illusion that nothing could go wrong. He had found her, so bonny and strong, and he ached for her already. He was doomed and he knew it well. And was overjoyed on top of that!

Claire was right, after one more turn they had arrived at their destination. She stopped in front of her door hesitating. Realization downed him. _Of course ye clot-heid ye canna go in her room!_

“Are we here, then, Claire?”

“Um, yes” she replied still thinking what she should do. _God she had such a glass-face!_

“Right then. We’ll wait for ye here to bring what ye need to mend my wound. Aye?”

“Yes, thank you Jamie” Claire said letting a breath out. “I’ll come back instantly. You may sit on the bench here, by the wall. Don’t go anywhere!” she added and then disappeared in the building after gathering her skirts with her hands not to hinder her fast steps.

Jamie smiled to himself. _As if I was going to leave_ , he thought. Then he moved towards the bench to sit down. Walking took most of his strength and he was going to need it.

“Well Jamie lad, lucky we were to find the lass, aye?” Murtagh said with a mischief in his eyes as soon as Jamie was on the bench. “I didna think ye could go back to the wine shop wi’ a bullet in yer shoulder.”

“Aye, a goistidh, I didna think so myself. We have to return though, aye?”

“I’ll go back to tell your cousin that ye’re ok and find out what happened after the Bastille. Ye better stay here for the moment, but be careful not to be seen. I’ll come back and fetch ye later, aye?”

Jamie felt incredibly happy with that suggestion. He could stay here, alone, with Claire. Even on the street, on this bench and with the passers-by, for him it was enough that they earned themselves some more time.

“Aye, Murtagh, ye do this” he replied to his godfather putting his inscrutable mask on his face because he was done with all the man’s teasing. However, he was unable to conceal the glint in his eyes.

Claire was back just after Jamie lost sight of Murtagh in the turn of the street. She looked around her, puzzled.

“Where is your friend?”

“Ah, Murtagh ye mean. He is my godfather. He went back to inform the rest about me”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you’ll have people worried about you”

“Aye, this I have.”

Jamie looked at her and saw a shadow on her face. It was not the frown that he noticed while she was dressing his wound. It was more like sadness. Why was she sad all of the sudden? Did she talk to anyone in the house and changed her mind about him being there? Was it something he had said?

Time passed and Jamie saw her face become rigid and her eyes distant. She kept looking at her lap when she spoke again.

“Alright. I will try to be as fast as I can but I would like to be sure that you are really better before you leave. At least the hemorrhage has to be stopped and your condition stabilized. This way I can prevent something that might go wrong. I hate to keep you here while you have to go, but…”

“No, Sassenach” he interrupted her. “Dinna hate keeping me here, cause I canna bear it.” _Christ, was that as desperate as it sounded?_

Claire raised her head with a confused look in her face. “I’m sorry, you can’t bear…what?”

“All I’m saying is that I would like to stay as long as you need, Claire” Jamie rephrased and continued the thought in his head: and even more than that .“Murtagh went to talk wi’ my cousin so I don’t have to hurry back” he added.

“Well, that’s good. For your shoulder, I mean.” Claire gave him small smile and started her work.

She removed the dressings that were full of his blood at this point and exposed the wound again. The bullet hadn’t gone through his shoulder and she had to remove it. Jamie watched her concentrate, choosing some forceps from her small box and cleaning them thoroughly. She cleansed the wound again with something that smelled like vinegar and Jamie steadied himself for what was coming. Claire saw his muscles tensing and tried to calm him, putting a hand on his and squeezing lightly. He relaxed again, having this safe feeling coming back to him. While Jamie was wondering how she could have such an impact on his feelings, Claire started removing the bullet. Her hands were steady and capable and she managed to finish in almost no time, or so he thought.

“Already?” Jamie said surprised.

“We were lucky. The ball didn’t hit the bone and therefore wasn’t shuttered. That made it easier for me to remove it, since it was in one piece. A branch of your brachial artery was damaged -that’s why you lost all this blood- but it could have been much worse. I have placed a suture on it, so you won’t bleed anymore.”

“You sutured my artery?” Jamie asked incredulously.

Claire laughed and then continued more sober and shy. “My uncle had a friend, Richard Lambert, and he was the one who had thought of this procedure. We talked about medicine a lot when he came to visit us in Paris and he had told me about this, so I had to try it today when I saw your wound. I hope all goes well.”

“I am sure it will, Claire. Thank ye.”

Jamie wanted to ask her about her life and her uncle, he craved to learn as much as possible about her, but decided against that for now. She seemed a little withdrawn even during this small amount of information she let out.  
She then asked for his hand and placed the bullet on it.

“A trinket to remember the day” she said and Jamie heard the smile in her voice.

“I think I’m nae going to forget this day Sassenach, trinket or no”

Claire carefully cleansed the wound and applied honey on it.

“Honey? Ye think my shoulder is an oatcake, lass?”

“Ha bloody ha. Honey will decrease the possibility of festering.” Claire said and redressed the wound. With the bleeding stopped and the wound properly dressed she looked satisfied.

“You have to be very careful for the next few days” she advised with a strict tone of authority in her voice, and then continued “You will not move your arm and you’ll keep it bandaged as I have it now. Do you know anyone that could take care of it for you? Change the dressings and check if it’s healing well? I hope it won’t bleed again or get infected, but in case it does and you develop a fever, someone has to…”

She stopped abruptly when Jamie placed his hand atop hers, but he noticed that she didn’t flinch. His hand that trembled a bit at the beginning was now stabilized from her reaction.

“I'd verra much want this someone to be you, Sassenach” he said calmly, with hope in his heart. He wanted Claire to be by his side, only her to check his wound, change his dressings, be beside his bed if he ‘ld be with fever. He didn’t care for anything that was coming his way, as long as she would be with him.

“That’s very kind of you” Claire looked him with her whisky eyes and gave him a big smile. “That would be my pleasure, Jamie.”

Claire sat on the bench next to Jamie, looking tired but content. Jamie hid himself as much as possible in the shadow of the wall next to him but he didn’t move. They were looking towards the street, where people had started coming back to their houses, elated with the happenings of the day. Hugging their children and one another, they gathered on the street and lighted fires to cook the little supper they had. However, this day the lack of food didn’t affect them so much. They felt freedom coming, and freedom is always filling; even though it was their hearts that were filled and not their stomachs.

Jamie saw the red and orange colors in the sky mirrored in Claire’s ivory face while the sun sank in the horizon and he felt his heart full. It was different; everything that happened today was so unusual that seemed like a dream. First going to the Bastille and being shot and then meeting Claire… He was so carried away with the attack that he now realized he had never been so forward with a lass before, speaking his mind like he knew her all his life. Every time he had courted a mademoiselle his behavior was according to the proper courtship rules. With Claire his heart was too eager to let him use his brain. Did she mind? Had she even realized how she made him feel? Maybe for her he was another patient who she tried to encourage through his pain.

Well, he intended to be more than that, so while Paris welcomed the darkness and they kept glancing at each other, Jamie’s hand never left Claire’s.

And she never moved hers away.


	3. At Master Raymond's

Taking the Bastille was only the beginning. It was plain to the sight that the attack was the turning point in everybody’s life.

“It's not a revolt; it's a revolution." was what the Duke of La Rochefoucauld replied to king Louis XVI when the latter asked about the attack.

The Commune de Paris, the new governmental structure, had been established in the Hôtel de Ville and refused taking orders from the central French government. The citizens expected retribution from the Versailles and built burricades made of stones to defend themselves, always keeping their weapons in hand. The counterattack never happened, thought. Instead, the king and his military commanders backed off.

The citizens, frenetic with their new power, invaded many a house of rich aristocrats known for their excruciating behavior towards the poor and after capturing them, they hanged them from lamp posts in the streets. The dreadful sight meant nothing to them. Their voices formed only one word: vengeance. All it took was a couple of shouts and a new aristocrat name for the drums to start playing and the weapons moved from belts to hands. The nobles, panicked, started fleeing from France.

 

Claire had slept for a maximum of three hours per day, for the poundings on her door seemed to never stop. She tried with all her might to help as many people as she could, not a life to be added in the ninety-eight people dead in the courtyard of Bastille. Wounded men and women were led to Claire after the fights; a lot of them injured by accident in the rushing mob. All these, added to her sick patients resulted in Claire’s monthly stock of ointments, dressings and herbs to vanish in just two days.

Every knock on Claire’s door was a spark of hope in her the darkness of her heart. Maybe this time it was him. Before leaving with his godfather that night, he told her he’d come back. She was certain that he meant it, she saw the truth in his eyes. He wanted to see her again.  
But Jamie never came back. It wasn’t his hand that knocked the door.

Claire started worrying about him. What if he was too weak to walk? What if the wound wasn’t healing? She resolved to keep herself busy not to think of what have happened of him. She did her best to save him, using every bit of information she knew on his advantage and there was nothing that she would change in her approach.  
_Was that enough, though?_  
 _Was she enough?_

Despite of how much she tried, even with her hands never stop working, Jamie was always on her mind making her be on pins and needles.

_Why didn’t he come? What if he wasn’t careful enough and opened the wound again?_

He could act like a bloody hero, judging from him depreciating his injury from the moment she first saw him. But even if he was careful, even if he took her advice seriously, there was always a chance he would develop a fever. Oh God, let it be a small one if he is to have a fever at all.  
Claire waited, feeling insufficient away from him where she could do nothing but pray. She didn’t know who he was and where he was living. She had never seen him before the attack.

 

The morning of the third day Claire took a look at her empty medicine kit and started towards the central Paris, where her favorite apothecary and her friend Master Raymond were. Central Paris was politically neutral, right between the rebellious east and the rich west of the city. Despite that, Claire was cautious and tried not to draw any attention on her.

After leaving Saint Antoine behind, she kept her head cast down. She continued past the City Hall and towards the Louvre where Raymond’s shop was. Never halting on her way, she passed by carriages with closed curtains transferring their passengers safely -at least for the moment- and houses with closed shutters to keep their inhabitants protected. Some men were gathered here and there, talking, but she didn’t go close enough to listen to their discussions. Keeping a fast pace, her heart was pounding in her chest when she reached Master’s Raymond apothecary.

“Hello Delphine” she smiled to the girl behind the counter.

“Good morning, Claire” Delphine went towards her and kissed her on the cheek. “I will call Master Raymond immediately. He’s at the back.”

Claire saw Delphine disappear and started looking around for the supplies she needed. She heard Master Raymond coming to her before she saw him.

“Claire! It’s been a while. I was worried about you.”

“Well, yes. It’s been a hard few days to be sure. But as you can see I am alright” Claire said and turned around herself to show that, indeed, she was fine.

“That’s good, my child. I know it’s the other side of this war that suffers the most right now but I couldn’t be but worried for you. I guess you went to the Bastille?”

Claire smiled to that and nodded, letting Raymond continue.“Of course you did. I suppose it was too challenging for you to stay behind. Just be careful, Claire. I know which side you support as many people do, but with some of your former acquaintances, you should be extremely cautious. Even coming here today was not very wise, if I can say so.”

“I know, Raymond. But I am out of almost everything and what good can I do if my kit is empty? I had to come, as you understand. I can assure you that I made it as fast as I could and I was very careful on my way.”

“I am sure of that. Tell me then, what is it that you need?”

Claire removed a list from her pocket and handed it to him. Frowning and humming, he moved around the shop and gathered the supplies on the counter.

“I am afraid I don’t have any laudanum at the moment, Claire. If you are not in a hurry I can ask Master Christophe for some and you may come by in a day or two to take it. I would live in my worst nightmare seeing you going to Champs-Élysées right now, and this is where his shop is. No, better coming here again Madonna than going there.”

“This is fine, thank you Raymond.”

Raymond’s faint smile didn’t alter his troubled countenance. “People have risen up, Claire and you have to remember that sense is not their major drive now. You are one of them, a dreamer and a rebel, but it may take just a moment for them to change their minds and consider you an enemy. A spy, that is. Ah, mon chéri, if you have no familiar faces around to claim you a “Jacques” -as you rebels call each other- what will become of you? This is why I don’t want you to come here very often. As much as I miss your company, you have to be safe in Saint Antoine.”

“You are right Raymond, of course. Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” Claire smiled to him and hugged her small round friend, the closest she had to a father the last 10 years since her uncle Lambert died.

She gathered the medicines and placed them carefully in her box. “I will see you again in two days from now!” she said, took a deep breath and left the shop.

Out in the sun, its rays almost blinding her eyes, Claire bent her head again and started towards the Hôpital des Anges, close to Notre Dame. It was more than a week since she last were there and was sure that Mother Hildegard would need her help.

She had to see Claudel as well. Maybe he knew something about Jamie.


	4. The surprise

Claire headed south and continued by the Seine, walking fast towards the Hospital de Agnes with her eyes on the white clouds painted on the water’s surface. Going to the hospital required her taking a different route than the one she took this morning, to Raymond’s. Considering this, maybe it was for the best since nobody would see her twice the same day, alone and away from Saint Antoine.  
She was more anxious now, her thoughts still lingered in Raymond’s words. She had seen the violence in men’s eyes while they gathered their weapons to attack another manor-house and a new tyrant, and she had seen revenge routing deep in their hearts. She thought that she was safe, but what if Raymond was right?

She hadn’t resided in the eastern, poorer part of Paris all of her life.

When Claire’s uncle, Lambert, was alive they were living in one of the big impressive houses in the centre of the city, by the Seine.  
Claire loved spending her quiet afternoons sitting on the window sill with a good book. Every time she took her eyes from the lines the river filled them with colors and sensations; serene, light blue under the sun and deep, agitated grey under the force of the rain.  
The property was a courtesy of L'Université de Paris, where Lambert was teaching History and Archaeology. Even though Claire’s parents passed away when she was in a devastatingly young age, her uncle kept her by his side and she had some of her best memories shared with him. Her life was full of adventures, completely different from what one would expect from a lady of her age. Before settling down in Paris they had moved around the world where Lambert was studying lost civilizations of ancient times. Claire was raised up in the dirt, sleeping in tents or under the sky and she wouldn’t change it for the most luxurious house and extravagant dresses.

Lambert’s way of life, bringing him so close to different cultures, gave him a different mentality compared to their Parisian society. Despite his social status as a professor, he was never one for prodigality and was always generous towards people of less means. He treated everyone with respect and kindness and had taught Claire to do the same.  
Thinking of him and his moral principles, Claire was certain that he would be proud of her now that she was fighting for equality, using her skills to aid such an honorable purpose.

Lambert believed in Claire more than anyone else in her life. He had recognized her calling and her brilliant mind and supported her dream of healing the people. He was the reason Claire knew so much about medicine. Introducing her to his physician friends to discuss with and providing her with access in all the medical books he could take home from the Université, Claire could gain knowledge of all kinds of diseases and ailments. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to attend the courses at the Université, but even Lambert couldn’t change that. With his help though, she joined the volunteers in L’ Hospital de Agnes to practice and evolve her skills and with time Claire was as close to a physician as she could be, even without the title to go with it.

Claire’s life in Paris was a happy one, with her books and her uncle’s company, even though she didn’t really fit in the social events they -too often- had to attend. Lambert sympathized with her, understanding her repulsion to arrogance and brutality. It was more than once or twice that he found himself being excused for his niece’s absence. He gave Claire freedom not only to ease her wild spirit but also because he was never one to decide on other peoples lives.

The event that proved Lambert’s peculiar raising of his niece was when Frank Randall, a colleague of his, visited him and proposed to marry Claire.  
Lambert had simply replied “You are a fine historian, Frank, and a good colleague of mine, but I really can’t help you with your proposal. If you want to marry Claire, it is she that will have to say yes”.

Randall stood gaping at Lambert, dumfounded, probably thinking that was the oddest response a man requesting a marriage agreement had ever heard. Nonetheless, since there was no other way for him to get an answer, he talked to Claire.  
On his way to find her, his stride was certain and determined. He was positive Claire could never decline his offer.

Claire was seventeen years old at that time and couldn’t be less interested in a marriage. Frank Randall was fifteen years older than her, a man of status and power but certainly not one who made her heart sing. Claire declined his proposal without a second thought; she was not one to compromise her dreams and if she was going to get married, she knew it would be only for love.

Lambert got sick soon after her awkward proposal decline and Claire forgot all about Randall and his intentions. Going through her uncle’s sickness and being unable to save him was excruciating. He was the only person she had left. Claire tried with all her might, but Lambert eventually died in his bed with her by his side, a Monday morning with the rain pelting hard on the large windows of his room.

“We will be all proud of you Claire.” were the last words he said, before his lips froze in a slight eternal smile.

Claire was alone and desolate.

Randall had visited Lambert once or twice while he was sick and then again when he passed out to express his condolences to Claire. It was only a week after the funeral that he came again, stating that his intention to marry Claire hasn’t changed and he was willing to “protect” her now that she was alone in the world. Claire’s answer remained the same, a bold no. Ever since, Randall had visited Claire twice every week trying to make her change her mind. He was persistent, always keeping his polite manner, but Claire was headstrong and unyielding.

Although she avoided him as much as possible, he kept finding a way to be around and started getting on her nerves. At last, forgetting his diplomatic ways, he tried to force her agree on his proposal by pulling every string he had access to, to intimidate her. When he made the administration of the Université seize Lambert’s house, Claire decided that she would take no more from this excuse of a man.

Taking the money Lambert had left for her, she moved to Saint Antoine where Randall would never find her and started healing people who needed her help and didn’t mind being attended by a woman. With time she made a reputation of herself and through the years almost everyone at Saint Antoine had passed her doorstep at least once, asking for her help. It was nine years now and even though she didn’t have a lot, she felt needed and was pleased with herself and her life.

 

A high-pitched voice and a shrill laugh made Claire raise her watering eyes towards the opposite site of the street, where a tiny young woman was walking with a huge man towards a carriage waiting on the road. Claire stood stone-still, as if she didn’t see the couple but Medusa’s eyes.

It was the red hair leading to a strong back and a bandaged shoulder that made her heart skip some beats. His bandaged arm had still her dressings on it but his other one was apparently clutched by the person in this voluminous silk pink dress that ended to a huge wig full of grey curls and an enormous hat with white feathers and blue flowers. In any other circumstance Claire would have laughed. Now she felt heartbroken and angry. _Bloody hell, you’re such a fool Beauchamp! What exactly have you been thinking? Sure, just stay at home and wait for him to come find you._

Claire tried to move but she could still hear her heartbeat loud in her ears and felt the small gasps of her breath, a perfect companion to her unstable feet. With a hand on the wall beside her to steady herself, she tried to regain the control of her body.

_It’s alright, that’s alright. Don’t panic. He was nobody. Nobody._

With her eyes were still on them, she saw their backs until they reached the carriage and he helped the woman inside, then swiftly looked around and joined her.They disappeared behind the closed curtains and with them, hope disappeared from Claire’s heart.

 _Who the hell was that woman? What were they doing together?_  
_At least he didn’t seem feverish and the bandages were in place._  
_Of course he is fine Beauchamp, strolling by the river and laughing with her. Why did you even care? You don’t know him._

Moving forward, step by step, Claire started thinking logically again.  
_You don’t know him._

She really didn’t know him. They didn’t manage to talk a lot after she mended his wound. How careless she was!  
She felt so content on that bench, having him by her side like he always belonged there and she let herself unguarded. She was sheltered by his warmth, his hand gentle on hers, a silent statement that his abnormal heartbeat was because of her presence and not of his wound. And then, it was the way she caught him looking at her, even through his pain, with his blue slanted eyes full of joy.  
How could she be so bloody wrong? Why didn’t she ask him more about himself?  
She had just met him and yet she let herself be with him. As if she knew him all her life.

When his godfather came back to take Jamie away he had kissed her hand and said “It was a verra fine day, today, Sassenach because I finally met you. I will come back in a few days to check my shoulder, aye?”

She felt so happy in that moment, with her hand still engulfed by his, thinking of his poetic words. Now she reconsidered.

What did he mean, “to finally meet you”? Could he know who she really was? Could he know about her past?

She had been certain that he was one of the attackers in the Bastille but seeing him here today, so well dressed and with this mademoiselle hanging from his arm, contradicted all her previous conclusions. Claire could tell from the woman’s clothes that she was one very close to the palace. Her bloody hat was like the ones that Marie Antoinette was always wearing and judging from her posture and the stupid noises that left her mouth she seemed very well acquainted with Jamie.

Why was this Scot wounded in the prison’s courtyard if he was so rich anyway? And Claire had even called him “Jacques”! Bloody Christ! She had never heard of an aristocrat rebel. That couldn’t be. Although she could be considered as a rebel of the upper class, she didn’t belong to this class for nine years now. Apparently he did.

Claire’s initial shock and unanswered questions resulted in terrible headache and a feeling of nausea. Looking around she realized that her feet took her to Saint Antoine instead of the Hospital without her brain noticing. Even better, she wasn’t in a fit state to tend to anyone right now. With a glance on the bench they were sitting she hurried to her room walking up and down in the small space she tried to calm down and recall her conversation with Jamie, that night in front of her house.

 

“So you’re English, lass?” Jamie said looking towards the street.

“English parents and I was born in Oxfordshire. However, I don’t remember much of England, I left when I was still a little girl.”

“And you came to Paris?” he frowned and turn to look at her.

“Oh, no, not straight away, that is. I traveled the world with my uncle for some years. I have been in Paris the last 15 years though, since he came to be a professor in the University here. It feels like home now. What about you? What is a Scottish lad doing in Paris?” she returned the question and smiled at him, curious about the stranger with the rolling “r”s that made her breathing laborious.

“I came to study in the Université, Philosophy and Literature, ye ken. After finishing I stayed here to work wi’ my cousin in his … business”. He had stopped just a moment before saying “business” and then continued “So what is your uncle teaching? Maybe I know him from my classes.”

“No, you don’t. He was teaching History and Archaeology.” Her voice broke a little.

“Ah, I am sorry lass.” he said with a solemn face full of compassion and tightened his grip on her hand.

 

Alone in her room, Claire cursed her foolishness the moment she realized how much information she’d given away about her person. She was angry with herself and her recklessness. She hadn’t given him Lambert’s name, thank God, but with all the rest she’d said he had now a good starting point and could easily find out who she was.  
Gradually she stopped her restless pacing and left fear and desperation take the reins of her feelings.  
She curled up on her bed, tired and unsure, and cried herself to sleep.

 _Was that night nothing but a charade?_  
_Could he just be a spy for them?_


	5. An unjust attack

A man was lying on the street.  
Another was atop him, pinning him down and hitting him on the face. Three more were standing on his sides, kicking him on the ribs with all their might, while shouting their accusations out loud.

“You filthy dog!”

“Stop protecting him and tell us all you know”

“You don’t deserve living in the Republic! You and your likes should vanish from France!”

Claire felt the adrenaline filling her veins and grabbed Claudel’s hand to keep him at her side, away from the skirmish. The wounded man turned his face to the side and then she saw him, contorting in pain.  
Oh no.

“Stay here and don’t move” she ordered Claudel.

“No, Milady, no no no” she heard him saying in a tiny voice while she turned and walked towards the mayhem.

Seeing again the fight -one sided as it was- Claire tried to suppress her urge to run to the poor man. She knew him. It was almost ten years ago when she last saw him, but she would always remember François and his kind face. Saying face was now a weird mix of red and black, the combination of blood and street’s dirt. Without giving herself adequate time to think about her next move, she shouted “Stop it! Stop it right now!”  
Hearing her own voice above the commotion, she finally ran to François and almost fell over him in her struggle to protect him.

The men stopped their accusations momentarily and looked at her. Their initial surprise soon subsided and they composed themselves. Taking their attention from their victim, they now focused on Claire with their faces almost the same red that featured in their tricolour cockades, the symbols of the revolution.

“What are you doing, woman?” the man who was previously testing his fists on François’ face was now hovering over Claire.

“We don’t have all day. Move. Now” one of the others ordered, impatience colouring his voice.

“I’m not going anywhere” Claire stated plainly “And may I request the reason you’re attacking this man, Jacques?” she continued – she emphasized on her last remark. Better show them I’m on their side of the revolution.

“He knows why. Don’t mess with what doesn’t concern you”

“Well, it’s just he doesn’t look like a noble to me” Claire insisted.

“This doesn’t signify” replied the calmest of the four, while the rest were growing restless.

“The man is keeping valuable information and he is going to speak, willing or no. Now go!” the man who had ordered her to leave now added with a venomous look at Claire. Don’t create more problems, it said.

“I don’t know where the Comte is” François whispered with a great effort. “Truly. He left during the night, two days ago. Please, let me go”

“Is this your valuable information?” Claire didn’t try to hide her irritation. “You charge on a poor servant, one of us, who suffered from the nobles for all these years for a message he doesn’t have?”

“He knows” one of the men spat at her.

“He is one of us” she insisted “If he knew he would tell you!” Claire was determined to stop this assault.

“We don’t know the man. We don’t know if he is one of us” the most composed man spoke again and the other assented ready to act again. “But what you say, Jacques,” he addressed Claire now, “May be the truth. And if no, we will give him some time to reconsider his answers, no Jacques?” he turned to his comrades again.

They looked at him dumfounded. He seemed to have some authority though, because when he said “Let’s go, Jacques” the rest followed, leaving Claire alone with the wounded man.

Claudel ran to her the moment the men left.  
“Milady! That was so dangerous! And brave!” his eyes were glowing with excitement and Claire realized that she maybe wasn’t exactly the role model she wished to be for the boy. Concerning his safety, at least.

Claire thought it would be safe to keep her protégée with her. They went together to Master Raymond’s this morning to get the laudanum he’d promised her. Claudel had come to find her two days ago; when he was the last person she wanted to see her in such a state of distress.

***

Claire’s room was dark when she opened her puffed eyes trying to focus on the blurry figure hovering over her head. Claudel, with his brown curls half hiding his face, was whispering “Milady?” His voice was concerned and his hands were unstable on her shoulders.

“Milady? Are you alright?” He was afraid.

“Yes, I’m fine mon chou” Claire smiled and caressed the boy’s cheek with her hand to console him, before raising herself in a sitting position.

Claudel smiled back, not yet totally reassured, and came to her for a big hug. She stroked his back with affection and felt her body relax for the first time since she saw Jamie by the Seine. It was a relief to have a beloved one with her and she felt lucky that Claudel was a part of her life.  
Moving him from the shoulders to look at him she asked “Why are you here?”

“It’s been so many days waiting for you, Milady, and I was worried something bad had happened. I asked Mother Hildegard’s permission to come see you and I’d helped her all these days with the sick people at L'Hôpital!” Claudel beamed at her with his last statement, confirming that he’d followed the instructions she’d given before leaving him with Mother Hildegard. Then he added shyly, as if he considered himself too old for such a statement, “I missed you”

“Oh, I missed you too Claudel! So much” Claire squeezed him in her arms, her heart a bit lighter now.

“That’s why you were crying, Milady?”

This time she actually laughed and petted his brown curly hair. He looked at her under his eyelashes and asked with a sheepish smile “Can I stay with you now? It’s not the same at the Hospital without you. Please?”

“Ok. I think it’s alright for you to stay” she said and moved so the boy could lie on her bed beside her.

Claire thought she could protect him now that the attack at the Bastille was over. They had gone together to L'Hôpital des Anges the day before the attack and Claire, knowing that dangerous days were coming, decided to leave him there under the supervision of Mother Hildegard. Knowing Claudel as well as she did, she was sure it would be impossible to keep the ten year old boy at Saint Antoine’s during the attack. Staying back to wait for her wouldn’t be an option for him. However, coming with her to the attack wasn’t an option for Claire. In the Hôpital he would be safe and she could visit and fetch him back, depending on the outcome of the attack. This was what she intended to do, before running into Jamie this noon.

Claudel was a good distraction from the painful thoughts that overwhelmed her after seeing Jamie with the noble woman with that annoying high-pitched voice.  
He was her protégée the last four years, the two of them forming an unconventional yet lovely family. Claudel was smart and kindhearted and he filled Claire’s days with joy with his humor and playfulness. Claire knew she was all the boy had and she didn’t take that lightly. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. He had suffered enough already in his childhood, raised in a brothel for six years until he accompanied a sick whore to the Hospital and Claire decided to take matters in her hands. He was safe now and she would strive for things to remain as they were.

***

Or this was what Claire thought. She now realized that she forgot to protect him from herself and her own acts. Running to stop four men during an attack was a good deed but absolutely not what she wanted the ten year old boy try to do. Judging now from Claudel’s excitement, he would definitely search for such a chance to try to be a hero himself. Helping her with healing was an occupation he’d accepted, but boiling water and cutting the cloths for the dressings were always accompanied with a murmuring of “women’s work” and a bored face.

Well, what’s done is done, Claire thought and asked the boy to fetch her medicine box. Luckily François was still conscious. However, moving him away from the street was another thing altogether.

While considering how she would carry him to sit in front of one of the houses at the side of the street, two hands raised the man from the armpits and then a shoulder under François’ arm was supporting his weight. Claire, astonished, raised her face slowly to see her saviour. Her eyebrows couldn’t move higher under her hairline when he saw his face, but the smile that started forming in her lips immediately vanished.

 _It was him._  
_Oh, God, not again._  
_And he was smiling at her. The unmitigated gall the man has!_

With a frozen heart and a simple nod she directed him to one of the quiet corners of the street, in front of an abandoned house. Her stomach was a knot by the time they reached their destination. Claudel arrived at her side, the box in his hands. Claire took it and avoiding Jamie’s eyes, bent on her knees to attend to François.

  
“Bonjour, monsieur” she heard Claudel addressing Jamie “Je vous remercie de votre aide”. Well, at least her boy had manners.

“Je vous en prie” Jamie replied with a smile in his voice.

Claire cleaned François’ face from the blood and dirt and applied her chamomile ointment, thinking simultaneously how to proceed with the complications of her current situation. Jamie hadn’t left; he was standing just behind her talking with Claudel. François was one of her uncle’s servants and after Claire’s escape he must have gone to work for another noble house. She had to know more about the truth of the rebels’ accusations.

“Where do you work now? Do you know where the master of the house is gone?” she whispered to him, trying to keep their conversation private.

“It’s the Comte St Germain”

Claire grimaced. The man was well known for his inhumanity. Poor François. She said nothing, letting him continue.

“I don’t know where he is. He left without telling anything to the servants and we don’t know if he’s coming back. What will I do, mademoiselle Claire? Suzette, the children, what will become of them?” François was terrified.

“Hush, they left, it’s alright now” Claire tried to comfort him, although she knew that nothing was alright.

While she was checking if François had any broken ribs Jamie kneeled next to her, his thighs barely grazing hers.

“How is he?” he asked, his interest seeming so honest that it enraged her.

_That acting would make the actors at the Théâtre de l’Odeon feel ashamed of their performance!_

“No broken ribs. It will be very painful for a while but it’s nothing serious” she replied more to François than to Jamie.

“Thank you, mademoiselle Claire. You saved my life today and I will remember that, always” François said, full of gratitude.

“Aye, she tends to do that” Jamie added and she felt him searching for her eyes.

“Think nothing about it” Claire responded, looking only at François’s sincere eyes. She didn’t know what to do with the blue ones she felt hooked on her, so she ignored them. Ignore him. “Can you walk, do you think?” she asked François.

“I will try, the house is not far” François grimaced while raising himself.

“Let me help you” Jamie added and Claire unconsciously turned and looked at him. The only thing she saw in his blue eyes was confusion. And pain. No acting and no deceit.

“Thank you” she said to him, and meant it. His furrowed brow relaxed a bit and he smiled. Her eyes then trailed on his rich garments. Like the ones he wore when she last saw him. His eyes followed hers on his outfit.

He let an inconsolable sigh and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he raised his head and looked at her pleadingly. “Claire” he started in an uncertain, low voice “I can explain”.

“There is no need to, sir” she said and turned to the raised and now bewildered François “Be careful François. Kiss the family for me!”

With that she collected her medicine box, together with her courage, and with a hand on Claudel’s back they started their way back home.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, monsieur!” Claudel shouted turning to face Jamie. “Next time please bring Sawny with you!”  
Claire surmised that this was the toy she heard Jamie talking about while she was tending to François.

The joy she saw in Claudel’s eyes when he turned and smiled at her shattered her heart.


	6. Back at Saint Antoine

Jamie felt François’ weight on his shoulder and the world’s weight on his back while he watched Claire move away.  
His heart crushed, a giant hand was trying to squeeze it until there was nothing left.

 _Sir_. She’d called him sir. Not Jamie, not even “my lad”, as she mocked him the first day they met. Could it get worse?

Five days passed without seeing her. Five days aching to hear her voice again, to call his name, talk to him. All he did was thinking about her, desperate to figure out a plan to meet again – and that not an easy task to deal with. With his noble façade to preserve and the duet of Jared and Murtagh keeping always an eye on him, Saint Antoine could as well be in the North Pole; it seemed totally inaccessible.  
He so focused on going to her place that it never occurred to him that they could meet elsewhere; especially under these circumstances, when she could use some help and he was despairingly unable to assist her.

Jamie watched the brawl from afar without moving towards it, knowing the risk this move beheld. Annalise was next to him clinging hard on his arm. The threat before their eyes kept her irksome voice in her mouth and Jamie was thankful for it. The moment he led her away to avoid the men and keep both of them safe, he saw her. Claire was there, running to the fight.

His heart stopped for more time he ever considered possible for a heart to dismiss its function. His breath caught in his throat. He felt pulled towards her, his body leaning eager to join her like a compass needle is pulled to the north. Taking a deep breath, Jamie gnashed his teeth, swallowed his anguish and fought for the sensible part of himself to prevail. As much as he didn’t want to leave Claire alone when she needed help, it was pointless to present himself on her side in his current attire. Furthermore, Annalise was still with him and he had first to remove her from the scene. Swiftly, he led Annalise to a carriage, directing the driver to go straight to her house without any stop. The young woman was frightened and asked him to accompany her to the house but Jamie had no mind for her at the moment. Well trained, he buried the turmoil of his feelings deep inside and bade the woman au revoir with bow and a smile on his lips. The moment the carriage was out of sight he turned and almost ran to Claire.

She had stopped them. Alone, protecting the man on the ground with her own body, she had stopped the assault and was now speaking to the rebels. He couldn’t imagine a more extraordinary woman in his wildest dreams. Jamie stood in the shadows, knowing that if he would join her things could go far worse. However, he was ready to interfere if the matter went south. One of the men was solemn but the rest were still enraged and talked harshly to her. He remained unseen and watched her, admiring her spirit and determination. When the men finally retreated he enjoyed her triumph more than she seemed to do and watched a boy ran to Claire, the same revel shown in his face as the one in Jamie’s. Ecstatic and proud, he walked to her to offer any help that she might needed.

Crossing the street, several thoughts sneaked in his mind.  
_Who was that boy and how did Claire know the wounded man? And more importantly, was he someone special for her?_

Apart from the questions he had some suggestions to make as well, on her choice of action and the way she valued her life. But most of all, he needed to see her eyes again and listen to her voice. He’d dreamed of this moment, he’d closed his eyes numerous times during the last days, daydreaming about her, longing to come close to her again and smell the citrus and chamomile in her hair.

He rejoiced so much in the fact that Claire was safe in front of him and they met again that he couldn’t help the foolish grin forming on his hips while raising the stranger Claire was helping. Totally forgetting his outfit for a moment, he was certain that his feelings would be reciprocated.

Jamie’s reflections stopped the moment Claire looked at him. Something was terribly amiss. Her polite smile disappeared from her face the moment she realized who was the person helping her. After that she was distant and avoided his eyes.

Jamie first thought that Claire wanted to focus all her attention on the injured man. He left her some space and talked to the boy who was with her, but his eyes and mind never left Claire.

The cold eyes that had replaced the generous ones he remembered shocked him. She didn’t address him and focused only on the wounded man. Even when he later bent next to her, to satisfy his need to even slightly feel her, she ignored him.  
Jamie’s worry kept increasing, when Fortuna -the goddess of luck- smiled at him. He’d volunteered to help the man back to his house and Claire finally raised her eyes on his again. She then really looked at him, as she did that night. He heard her sweet and sincere voice thanking him and felt his heart growing wings again.

It was just a moment, before the ice crept back in. Her eyes trailed off on his clothes and then reality hit him, like a thunderbolt. Seeing the ominous sign, Jamie realized rain was coming hard on him and resolved to get as protected as he could be.

Gathering all the breath left in his chest he tried to explain himself. Claire was cold and didn’t even give him a chance. She addressed him as a stranger and left, taking the boy with her and wishing the man –who she apparently knew – to have a quick recovery.

Jamie wasn’t a fool though. He saw her concealed anger in her set jaw and fisted palms. She could pretend of nonchalance but her hurt was clear to him in all her little moves.  
Above all, she didn’t ask about his wound. Jamie had seen her mending him and François and was sure that Claire cared deeply about her patients. However, she didn’t ask about his injury and how he was feeling.  
That was good; she must have been furious. Her anger confirmed everything Jamie thought laid between them. She cared for him and felt betrayed but there was still a chance to rectify what was done. He wouldn’t mess this up.

François groaned on his side and Jamie readjusted his position to help the man. He had to help him back home and then he would go immediately to find Claire.

“Where to?” he asked, eager to be done with the task.

“Merci, Monsieur for your help” François politely replied and then answered Jamie’s question.

Their destination was not far but François kept a slow pace and Jamie had the impulse to raise him in his arms and transfer him to the house as soon as possible.

“I believe you know mademoiselle Claire?” the man asked and Jamie felt miserable. Talking would make him move even slower than he already did.

“Aye, ye can say we’re acquainted” Jamie replied ruefully.

“She has a kind heart and a clever mind; always had. Her disposition can be that of great courage, as you can tell from today’s events, but can be very headstrong. You must have patience”

Jamie frowned. The man seemed to know Claire very well. How this servant knew so much of her character and why did he instruct Jamie on how to act concerning Claire?  
Now confused, he turned to see the man but the other just smiled to him and winked.

“I know love when I see it and you couldn’t take your eyes off her, monsieur”  
Taking this as an answer to all his silent questions, Jamie chuckled and they continued their way.

The house where François lived was in the opposite way Claire had gone, near the Royal Palace and not far from Jared’s apartment. His cousin’s income allowed him to inhabit in one of the richest districts of Paris and Jamie knew the neighborhood well. After leaving François and giving him his best wishes, Jamie hastened his step back to the central part of the city to the warehouse they kept the extra wine for the wineshop business. He changed his clothes with plain dark ones and he walked towards Saint Antoine ready to face Claire’s rage.

The closer he was getting to Claire, the harder it was to command his heart. When he finally arrived to her house he had to pause and take a few deep breaths. He’d made up his mind on his way there; he would tell her the truth, as hard as this might be and he wished that she’d believe him. He prayed her feelings to be as strong as his - even if they were expressed only as anger at the moment.

Claire was nowhere to be seen. Jamie saw Claudel playing with three other boys in a short distance. Claudel! What a name for a boy! He brought Sawny with him; luckily he had left the toy in the warehouse. Claudel saw him and directly left his company to go to Jamie. He was smiling and his warm brown eyes were shining with mischief.

“Hallo again, monsieur” the boy addressed Jamie first.

“Hello to you too, Claudel” Jamie paused and presented the wooden snake to the boy. “I brought you my wee snake, as I promised”

The boy’s face lightened up and with a grin he took the toy from Jamie. “Oui! It’s very nice, monsieur. What does Sawny mean?”

“Sawny is how my brother called me when I was just a bairn. Even younger than you” Jamie replied wistfully. “He made it himself and gave it to me as a gift. Will you take care of him for me?”

“I will! I will never leave it from my sight, be sure of that!” Claudel was enthusiastic.

“Weel, thank ye Claudel” Jamie paused frowning “Do you like your name, Claudel I mean?”

The boy’s amiable face contorted momentarily in thought, as if considering his name for the first time in his life. “I don’t mind it but I can’t say I like it.” he finally replied “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe between you and me… Fergus is a much stronger name. Much more appropriate name for a man with responsibilities, ye ken?”

“Fergus” Claudel whispered the name in a French accent “I like it! Will you call me Fergus? Can I tell Milady to call me that as well?”

“Milady?” Jamie asked incredulous and immediately regretted his tone. Why would the boy address Claire with a term saved for the noble?

“Oui, mademoiselle Claire” Claudel rephrased cautiously “Can I tell her?” he continued eagerly focusing on his new toy and name.

“Well, if things go well we can tell her together. Is she here?”

“Oh no monsieur, she’s away” Claudel was skeptical on how much information he should give away.

“Can ye tell me where to find her?”

“You could wait here for her to return, no?” he entreated.

“I could, but I have no much time”  
Jamie was seeing his opportunity to talk to Claire slipping from his hands. He had to return on time at the wineshop or he would have to answer a hell lot of questions from Jared.

Claudel’s face was scrunched in thought. “You won’t hurt Milady, will you? I think you like her.”

“Aye, I do like her. A lot. And I need to find her”

“Milady went to walk by the Seine. She does that when she is angry or sad.” Claudel said looking at Jamie. “Is she angry at you?”

“Aye” Jamie said leaving a breath “I think she is”

“Maybe she is angry because you made her sad. I think she was sad and I couldn’t make her smile today”

“Weel, wee Fergus” Jamie winked at him “Let’s hope I will” he said with a rueful smile and left Fergus behind.

Seine was not far and he had to find Claire. He was more concerned now, knowing that she was not safe at her home. What possessed her to go walking around just by herself?  
God, if something happened to her because of him and his damned double-life…  
Jamie accelerated his step wishing that he’d find Claire safe and she’d be willing to listen to him. Mary, Michael and Bride, that she would believe his truth and forgive him!

He needed her to forgive him.  
What would he be otherwise?  
How could he live without her, now that he knew she was within his grasp?


	7. The repent

Claire was furious.  
She couldn’t decide if it was Jamie or herself and her naiveté that made her feel that way, but the feeling was too strong to neglect it in any case.

She left Claudel at the house and kept walking towards the river.  
Arriving there, Claire found it impossible to still herself. She kept pacing up and down, all the while breathing deeply and trying to let the serenity of the Seine pass through her skin and reach her mind and heart.

The time passed, but every attempt to find calmness seemed done in vain. The light breeze that caressed her face couldn’t improve the suffocating feeling that overwhelmed her. The sun didn’t warm her skin and the pain in her legs couldn’t stop her from moving. Withdrawn from the real world, nothing around Claire could actually reach her inside.

An abnormal amount of energy filled her tissues, preparing her body for a “fight or flight” reaction; a behavior to aid survival, used for thousands of years.  
This fight was different though; it was brain against heart. Claire knew she had to pick a side and her increased stamina didn’t aid towards a solution.  
She just wanted to run – run until there was no more breath in her lungs. Run until her body’s weight felt as heavy as her heart’s. Run until the last speck of strength left her bones.  
And then fall. Find oblivion.

She knew that this impulse was meaningless. There was no choice for “flight” this time. She kept pacing, until she was ready to fight - and drown every last hope still shining in her heart.

Eventually, weariness crept in her body and she stood rigid, looking at the clear sky and desperately noticing how much she failed to clear her brain.  
It was now evident that her denial to face the revelation about Jamie backfired on her. Her façade had broken the moment she saw him again and instead of keeping everything under control, her feelings flooded over her heart’s rim.

Claire knew she needed to be sensible now. Think things over, disentangle her feelings that currently formed a huge ball of yarn filling her brain and then move forward. This was what she always did. Analyze the situation – solve the problem – move forward.  
_Why was it so bloody difficult this time?_

She hadn’t heard him approaching.

It was just a light touch on her arm, as if a leaf had found her on its descent towards the earth. Its warmth was what indicated it was a human’s touch, together with the light, broken murmur of her name that followed.  
“Claire…”

With her nerves on edge, Claire turned around on a swift move and almost fell on his chest. Taking immediately a step back while averting her eyes from him, his hand was on her arm again.  
“Please, Claire…”

_Come on Beauchamp. Hide this glass face of yours and deal with it. Better now than ever._

“Can I help you?” He withdrew his hand after hearing her tone.

_Good. That was good – keep that stern voice._

She didn’t really look at him. Her eyes were raised to his face but she kept all feelings aside. Her feelings, his feelings. Pretending there was nothing under the surface was easier than taking account of the man in front of her.

“Oh, lass, please”

She barely heard him. His voice was slightly louder than a whisper and she now saw his slumped shoulders, his hand midway in the air- hesitating to touch her again. Her heartbeat started increasing, immediately followed by her much potent anger.  
_Protect yourself. Don’t be a damn fool again._

“What is it that you want, Jamie?” With her eyes on his dark grey pantaloon she continued “I see you’ve changed your clothes”. She was unable to keep the ironic look from her face. Her eyebrow raised and her lips formed the tiniest of sardonic smiles.

He dropped his hand at his side.  
“Aye, I did that.” Jamie said and continued with a breath “Ye have to let me explain, Claire. Ye have to give me a chance”

“To explain? There is nothing you have to explain Jamie.”  
“There is and ye know that. I owe ye an explanation, for what you saw”  
“No Jamie. You don’t owe me anything. You barely know me.”

_No reason to hear more lies anyway. I saw him with my own eyes. I saw both of them. Why couldn’t he leave all this as it was, to fade out with time? It would eventually disappear – this crazy heartbeat. All things decay with time._   
_But he had to make it the hard way, so better end it now and be done with it Beauchamp._

“You better go back” Claire stopped for a moment before adding “where you belong”. She took her eyes of him before finishing her sentence and turned her back at him, looking again towards the Seine.

_Keep breathing and he’ll be gone before you know it. All is well. All will be well._

He hadn’t left.  
Claire still felt his warmth behind her and heard his irregular breathing.

“I need to tell ye, Claire. I need you to listen to me. ’Tis truth that we’ve met only twice, ‘tis truth that ye still don’t ken enough about me but” he touched her hand lightly before continuing “don’t ye feel it too Claire? What lies between us? For that alone I owe ye the truth of me.”

At that he stopped but Claire didn’t move to face him. She didn’t know what he might see in her eyes, she still wasn’t sure of her feelings herself.

He came at her side, seeing her now, and resumed talking.  
“When I saw ye today, Claire… talking to the men, trying to stop the assault…”

This statement took her by surprise and she now turned to face him, unable to stop herself from doing so. “You’d seen me while I was trying to protect François? But decided to come and offer your help only after I was bloody done with them? That’s interesting at the very least!” Her wry tone replaced the surprised one and she huffed.

“Aye, I was… occupied at the moment. Couldn’t come earlier and I’m sorry for this”  
“Occupied. I see.”  
“No, no you don’t” he returned calmly with a tone of despair in his voice “Claire, please. I would give the world to help you, but it wouldna be any better if I came to you in my previous clothes now, would it?”

Claire just looked at him sternly, fully aware that he was right about this.

“I felt my heart stop when I saw you there. The moment I could finally approach, I came to ye. Being close to ye again, a nighean, I forgot everything – including the clothes I wore. I ken that was a surprise to you –“

“A surprise? I meet you after at the attack on Bastille, mend your shoulder, wait for you to come back as you told me and all the while think of you as a rebel and then I see you strolling like, like that” she gestured vaguely towards the direction of the center of Paris where they’d met earlier. “And, don’t you worry, Jamie. To bring you out of this awkward situation, I know very well what occupied you. Or, rather, who. No further clarifications are actually needed.”

At least now he looked flabbergasted. He kept staring at her, with wide blue eyes and his mouth slightly agape. After a while he seemed to summon his thoughts back.

“What do ye mean by that Claire? Ye couldna possibly see me today”  
“Not today, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?”  
“Aye, ‘tis” he said firmly.

His hands were on his hair, ruffling them before he took at breath and grabbed her hand. He looked her in the eyes while speaking.  
“Claire… Ye need to listen to me now. ‘Tis the truth that I can offer you and this I’ll do and gladly. If ye canna forgive me, then…” he trailed off, losing his breath. Regaining it, he continued “What ye saw the day we met, what ye look at now – this is who I truly am. I didna deceive ye when we met, Sassenach, I was free to be myself that day. But this isna always the case”

He had gained her attention. Her guard was still up but she was watching him as he spoke and saw the man she first met some days ago. His eyes were pleading on hers to believe him, his chest rising and falling with deep agonizing breaths.

“I support the revolution, Sassenach. How could I not? But my way isna the same as yours. I –“ he stopped, closed his eyes and bit his lips as if he was going to admit the most horrifying revelation in the world.

Claire fortified herself, seeing the wave that was going to hit her. Whatever it was, at least it seemed to be the truth. Maybe she could have that, at last. She instinctively nodded to him, even though he couldn’t see her.

“I am a spy, Claire. This is what I am” he said in a heavy voice opening his eyes again.

Claire’s heart stopped. Her mind froze, all sense leaving it at once.  
_A spy?_  
Blinking as though that would help her think, she connected the pieces of the puzzle.

_Did he say that he supports the revolution by being a spy? So that makes him a spy for the rebels? How could that be? Spies usually come to Saint Antoine sent from nobles to collect information._

Jamie was silent, anxiously waiting for her reaction.  
“Do you mean to tell me that you are a rebel and you spy on the nobles?” Claire gave voice in her thoughts, still unconvinced.

He snorted at that. “Not the easiest thing to believe, I ken that. But I told ye as I’d give ye the truth and ‘tis that I did”  
“I’m going to need more of this truth to believe you” Claire raised an eyebrow.  
“Aye, I figured that much Sassenach.” He smiled at her, breathing easier now. “I am not a noble, but I am acquainted with many of them, through my cousin’s business. He runs a wineshop in east Paris, dealing mainly with aristocrats and making a fortune for himself. He lives in Paris for many years now and his fortune made him accepted in their society. When I finished my studies I joined him and I work with him ever since. I have witnessed all the vanity of the nobles firsthand Sassenach, first in the University and then in the wineshop. The way they treat people is formidable” he said shaking his head from side to side. “When I heard about the revolution starting at Saint Antoine, I though as I could help, to bring justice back to people. This is what I do now. I am trying to help.”

“Well, Jamie – if your name is real – you’re a very complicated man. Why do you tell me though? Isn’t it too dangerous for you?”  
“It is real –my name. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.” He paused in-between every name. “Would ye betray me Sassenach?” he said smiling but the blue eyes were searching an honest answer in hers.  
Claire recognized the gift he was giving her and accepted it. With a more benevolent tone in her voice she challenged him. “If you manage to convince me, I don’t see why I would. If you are a spy, how did you explain your wound to your noble friends?”  
“They are not my friends” Jamie replied sternly.  
“You didn’t answer my question”  
“Weel, I said as I came across some radicals on their way to Hôtel de Ville and they attacked me”  
“And did they believe you?”  
“They did”  
“No suspicions? Are you so deep in their society then?”  
“I dinna say I like it Claire. These people’s narcissism and arrogance is insufferable. But it’s not that all of them are like this”  
“Certainly not all of them. I would say that you rather enjoyed the company of some” Claire retorted dryly without taking time to think it thoroughly.  
“Ahh, this is what ye meant before, then. I dinna ken how it happened and ye saw me with the woman, Claire, but what ye have in your mind isna what truly happened. Annalise means nothing to me. ‘Tis something I have to do –visit her and spend time with her – as she knows all important people I have to approach. She is kindhearted but I have nothing to share with her, Sassenach”  
“This is not my business, Jamie”  
“Is it not then?”  
“I don’t care who your close friends are. Seems tantalizing enough though, doesn’t it? A love above all politics. A Shakespeare-like romance, maybe?”  
“A romance? Are ye not listening to me lass? I told ye Claire, ‘tis nothing of the sort”  
Jamie kept moving his head to emphasize on his point but couldn’t erase Claire’s disbelieving eyebrow. She didn’t continue on the matter though.

“So, if you tell me the truth” she said when she spoke again “isn’t it too dangerous for you to come here dressed like this? What if someone who knows you sees you on your way here?”  
“Aye, ‘tis not wise, to say at least. This is the reason I couldna come back to see ye earlier Sassenach.”  
“And now? What has changed now?”  
“Ye ask me that?” his blue eyes looked at her incredulously, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “You, who wouldna raise yer eyes on me? Who called me sir like we never met before?” He stopped, inhaled deeply and placed his hand on Claire’s cheek, slightly raising her head. “Look at me, mo nighean. I longed to see ye again, from the moment you left my eyes that night. I couldna stand ye talking to me so harshly, seeing ye hurt and knowing this is all my fault. Seeing as I would lose ye, I couldna just wait for you to go”  
“Lose me?”  
“Claire, I would give everything for a chance to prove myself to ye. It’s all I ask.”

Claire looked at the bright blue eyes looking genuinely at hers and knew that her mind’s fight was long lost. Against all odds, her heart had prevailed and she actually did believe him.

The pressure of all her hidden emotions suddenly erupted to the surface and leaved her body in hearty sobs. Jamie instantly engulfed her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest, one hand interweaved in her hair and the other rubbing her back to sooth her.  
“Oh, Claire, mo nighean donn. Dinna fash, now. I’m here. I’m here now.” he whispered in her hair.

And there, between her ragged breaths and puffed eyes, safely locked in Jamie’s arms, Claire had finally found her much pursued serenity.


	8. A secret rendezvous

Jamie always knew that time was relevant.  
The dreadful or boring moments tended to elongate dramatically whereas the happy ones were sucked from the present by the greedy force of the past.

He had learned that lesson from a young age, when his adventures with his best friend Ian never lasted as long as they hoped to while waiting afterwards for his father to stripe him seemed like an eternity. However, the malevolence of time never affected him as much as this time.

The last three days felt like a month. He had found all conversations irrelevant and endless, all people around him leaving their small impact in his life in a monotonous manner. Nothing was enough, it was like living in a blurred background, waiting for her to come and light up the scene.

It was in the midst of the dark, when her light came in. There, in his dreams, he found her again and again. He touched her beautiful face, feeling the softness of her skin and traced her full lips with his thump, ready to kiss them. Her hair was moving around them on the light breeze while he leaned to her, ready to be lost in her light and heat.

And then, every damned time, he just woke up. Alone and with his heart roaring in his chest, his lips tingling in her profound absence. He squeezed his eyes shut to get one more picture of her, but his eyelids just fell black hiding the outline of his room. He then stayed awake, thinking of their last time together.

***

(4 days ago)

When Claire’s breath found a normal rhythm she turned her red, teary eyes to him, full of worry. “Your wound”, she whispered.

“It’s alright, Sassenach. Dinna fash” Jamie smiled reassuringly to her, without an effort to hide how happy he was that Claire cared for him.

“Let’s go back to change the dressings. Does it hurt? Were you feverish the previous days?” she frowned.

“Aye, I was during the first two days but I am fine now. Hurts a bit, still, but I can manage.”

Claire smiled to him “That’s the advantage of being a young and strong lad, I suppose. I’m sorry I didn’t check on your shoulder earlier. I wasn’t …”

“Dinna be sorry, Claire. My wound is nay problem. My main problem was something else, but I can see we solved that, now”

She nodded and took his hand between her own. “Thank you, Jamie” she said, her eyes full of gratitude.

“Let’s go Sassenach” Jamie said and led her back to her house.

 

They couldn’t hold each other’s hand, in case someone saw them, but their hands were grazing against each other as if on their own, in an attempt to maintain contact. Jamie felt his heart full when he realized that Claire was doing that on purpose.

When they arrived Claire looked around, searching, most possibly, for Claudel. Then she left him waiting on the bench and entered the building where her room was. A few minutes later, Claudel was trotting down the stairs and stood by Jamie.

“Milady told me to come and accompany you, while she gathers her medicines” he said and after noticing that Jamie gazed on the building he added “You can’t see our room from here, Monsieur. It’s in the back, right behind that one” he pointed at a window at the right side on the second floor “but Milady will be back in a minute”.

“Aye, thank ye lad. May I inquire if my snake is in safe hands, still?” Jamie winked at Fergus.

“Oui, right here!” Claudel removed the snake from his pocket to show it to Jamie.

“And what is this exactly?” Jamie heard Claire from the entrance of the building. She patted Claudel in the head and took the snake from him.

“It is mine, Milady!” Claudel said and after glancing at Jamie he shyly added “for safekeeping”.

“Sawny” Claire read at the back of the snake but before she had the time to ask, Jamie answered her question.

“Aye, tis mine Sassenach. My brother used to call me that”

Claire gave him a rueful smile and gently traced the letters carved on the wood. “So you bribed your way to find me?”

Jamie laughed. “What else could I do? Bribing seemed the only way to get some information!”

“It wasn’t the snake that persuaded me to tell you where Milady was!” Claudel protested. “It was the things that you said!”

“And what things would these be Claudel?” Claire asked mischievously.

Jamie eyed her and said in a stern tone “That would be between us men. Right Fergus?”

“Oui! I mean… yes right” the boy said trying to deepen his voice.

“Fergus?” Claire looked at both of them inquiringly, raising her eyebrows.

They both laughed and nodded but neither of them explained. 

“Anyway” Claire resumed with a shrug. “Jamie, come here to see this wound of yours”

Jamie sat on the bench again and Claire examined his wound for a while. Then, with a satisfied smile she cleaned and redressed it and informed Jamie that it was healing really well.

“You mended it Sassenach. I was sure that it would” Jamie said and watched elated the rose color of her cheeks to intensify.

***

Four days, they’d said. Four days, to be sure that nobody had recognized Jamie in his way to Saint Antoine and nobody had seen them together by the river.

The image of Claire in his arms, safe, protected and cared for was his strength to endure the torture of not seeing her. He had been there, to support her when she felt undone in his arms and that was the best gift Jamie could ever ask for. Now she was again alone and away and this thought filled him with dread.  
_Would she be all right?_

He knew Claire was as strong as any person could ever be. She survived without him for so many years, although he had no knowledge of other people in her life, apart from Fergus. But she was bold and spoke her mind and even though these were some of the characteristics that drew him to her, he couldn’t deny that they could lead to trouble. Disappointed on how useless he was far from her, he kept counting the hours until they would meet again.

A neutral place, where everyone could go without drawing attention. They arranged to meet in the small park behind the Notre Dame. Claire could justify her presence there because of the proximity of L’ Hôpital des Anges, where she said she volunteered and Jamie could very well pass from the Ile de la cite on his way to meet some clients of the wineshop.

 

With his mind on the upcoming meeting with Claire, he hardly heard what Annalise was talking about. Walking with her in the Jardin des Tuileries, he kept his pleasant façade to hide his eagerness to see Claire but the unconscious smile at the thought of her wild curls and beautiful smile couldn’t be avoided. The hours lingered too long and Annalise’s voice sounded even more irksome than before.

Realizing that he had to find any possible information on the Comte’s Saint Germain whereabouts, he focused his attention back to her just to hear her saying “So, what is your mind on this, dear James? Will you attend the promenade in the Luxemburg gardens the Monday next?”

Of course he would. Not that he wanted to go and mix with these people again, but the promenade would give him the perfect chance for some eavesdropping. Jamie already knew that on 15th of July the King had withdrawn his army regiments from Paris and the next day he recalled Jacques Necker, his reformist finance minister whom he had dismissed from duty on July 11th, to the ministry. That was a great win for the third estate. Following that, the King himself returned to Paris on 17th of July and was welcomed by the new mayor of the city. He was given and wore the tricolor on his hat; red and blue, the colors of Paris, and white, the royal color. _What a success!_

But nothing had yet finished; this was just the beginning. The aristocrats fled the city like migratory birds, trying to find a warmer place to keep their “valuable” lives. Nobody knew how they would react when the common people demanded some of the power, but they were not expected to react to that magnanimously. Jamie had to gather more information about them, to keep them from hurting more people and prevent them from stopping the revolution. If he was going to find more about the Comte Saint Germain from Annalise, he might as well start trying more.

“It would be an honour to attend the promenade, Milady” he responded to her “May I accompany you?”

_Yes, right, grand yourself some more tiresome hours, James Fraser._

“Oh, yes of course James!” she smiled at him.

Jamie faced her, this time really looking at her. It wasn’t that she was a bad person. She was kind and conversational, at least with him. Her thin and short stature, combined with her sweet face, made her look like a child next to him. However, even before meeting Claire, he’d never considered to continue this friendly relationship to another level. He needed a woman, not a girl and lucky he was that he finally met her. And now that he had indeed met her, he realised why he never saw something more in Annalise. Her company never spoke to his heart and he didn’t feel drawn to her. He could walk by her for hours- because he had to- but he felt eager to extend their meetings.

_To think that Claire felt jealous of her! Ah Dhia, to be such an extraordinary woman and think of such nonsense!_

“So, my dear Annalise, do we have any news of the kind gentlemen that left Paris with their families?” he asked cautiously “How concerned I am for them!” he added in good measure.

Annalise responded to that with a continuous monologue for more than five minutes, finally informing him for one or two families that she knew about, but nothing of interest.

Finally, he called for a carriage and accompanied her back home.

On his way to the Ile de la cite his heart was bumping like crazy on his chest. He wanted to arrive first, to see Claire coming to him and savour every little move of her body. The few benches behind the church were empty now, and he sat on one in the far end from the entrance. He closed his eyes, hearing the river and the cheerful birdsongs from the trees over his head. The sun warmed his face and he thought of the countless hues the sunlight would create in her curls. It would be in mere minutes that he could touch her again. Jamie smiled at this thought and opened his eyes. Claire was standing still in the entrance of the small park, watching him. When he caught her she blushed and lowered her face.

Jamie used all his strength to restrain himself and not rise from the bench. Claire checked around her with a subtle move of her head and then walked cautiously towards him. He abstractly counted her steps, each one bringing her closer. To his surprise, when she finally reached him she didn’t come to sit by him but opted for the bench right behind his. She turned slightly on her side to face him and almost whispered “Hello”.

“Isn’t this bench on your liking, lass?” Jamie teased her but felt the disappointment of not having her beside him.

“Well, I suppose it is just as fine as this one” she gestured to her own.

Jamie made as to join her but her raised hand and her head moving negatively motioned him to stay where he was. “But why, Claire?” he didn’t even try to hide the sadness from his voice.

“We have been much too careless, Jamie. I… I’m afraid that if someone sees us talking we can’t very well explain why and how we know each other”

“Aye, I ken that Sassenach but we are alone right now” he wouldn’t give up so easily.

“Indeed we are. Now” she emphasized on the last word trying to convey the message with her eyes as well.

“Mmmphmm”

“What?”

“I hoped for something more than whispers without even seeing you, Sassenach”

“Well, this has to do for the moment” Claire replied, raising her eyebrows and searching in her bag for something. She picked a book and after opening it on a random page she turned her back to him.

“If ye say so” Jamie finally complied unenthusiastically, turning his back as well.

“How were these past days for you?” Claire asked in a low voice.

“Waiting to see ye again made them hard, Sassenach. And here I have ye and ye turn your back on me”. Jamie heard her chuckle and wished he could see her face. Her hair were tingling his nape and he inhaled the herbs and lemon scents reaching him.

“So, Claudel demands that everybody should call him Fergus from now on. Who would expect that!” she faked her surprise.

“Does he then?” Jamie smiled satisfied.

“I assure you he does! He claims that he is a man now and Fergus is a name better suited for men than Claudel. You made my everyday life a bit more difficult, calling him again and again before I remember that I am saying the wrong name!” Claire said and he heard the laugh in her voice. Then she asked in a somber tone “How were your walks?”

“The same Sassenach –hard. I’m attending the next promenade to find more about the Comte Saint Germain. We are searching for him”

She didn’t reply.

“Sassenach?”

“Yes, I’m here. Well, the Comte isn’t going to make it easy for you, I’m sure. As far as I know him, he is a man of sinister ways.”

“You know him? Did ye work for him?” Jamie asked perplexed from her comment “This is how ye knew François?”

“Well, no. I…” Claire trailed of and took a deep breath “I have a secret as well, Jamie. A secret I want to trust you with”

He felt her tense behind him. “I’m here Claire. I will never betray ye, you know that” the emotions obvious in his voice.

“Yes, I know. I guess I knew from the first time we met. This is why I told you part of my story that night. I felt… safe with you”

Jamie could feel her ramrod straight behind him.

“Give me your hand, Claire” he extended his hand behind him and felt her fingers grazing it lightly, searching for him. He grabbed her hand and their fingers intertwined instantly. Claire sighed, more relaxed now.

“Do you remember what I told you about my uncle? The professor?”

“I do”

“When he was alive we lived in the centre of Paris, in one of the beautiful houses looking at the Seine. François was one of our servants. He lived with his family in our house, given to us by the University. My acquaintances were different, back then. I never particularly liked the company of the nobles, so pretentious and shallow, but it was a peaceful life. My uncle was nothing like the rest of them, of course, he always treated everyone with love and respect. When he died, I was forced to -”

  
Jamie left her hand and felt her body jerk.  
“Shhh” he whispered and immediately said “Bonsoir, monsieur” to the dark man that was heading towards them. He looked familiar, but Jamie wasn’t quite sure where they have met before.

“Bonsoir, monsieur” the man replied with a nod and sat on the bench next to Jamie’s.

The moment the man’s voice filled the air, Jamie heard Claire’s sharp inhale.


	9. Shadows from the past

_Bloody Hell._  
_Merde. Merde. Merde. Merde._

Claire repeated again and again the same words, as if they were a prayer to the God of dematerialization and she would be helped out of this situation.  
She wasn’t picky. Frank could vanish or she could, there wouldn’t be any objection to either option.

So see kept cursing.

Seeing that her “prayer” had no effect she tried the second easier path. Anger and denial.

Why from all the parks and gardens in Paris, Randall had to appear just now in this one?

All sense had left her body since the moment she heard his voice.  
With no answer received on her legit question, she decided to curse some more.

Finally, Claire gritted her teeth and accepted that she had to deal with the matter.  
After taking two deep breaths, she pondered the best way to react.

There were two options. She’d either sit there, pretending to read the book that -luckily- was still in her hands or she would leave as soundlessly as she could. Surely Frank wouldn’t remember her; he hadn’t seen her for almost nine years! She was just a girl back then and in a totally different attire to boot. If she managed Frank to see only her back while she would walk away… But what about Jamie? He remained silent at the moment but what if made to rise and leave? Would he then talk to her?

Having so much to risk, Claire decided to play safe. She would wait for the bloody man to finish his reading and leave.

_Damn you Frank Randall, you and your walks in the parks._

 

Claire looked through the dancing letters in her book, in memories buried at the back of her mind. The devastating years after Lambert’s death; the loneliness, the despair and finally the determination. She’d made it all by herself and wouldn’t let anybody take that away from her.  
Her anger and fear were raising again, her lips pressed into a thin line.  
No, she wouldn’t let Randall meddle with her life.

She couldn’t but notice that something was different now. She was older and stronger, of course, surer of what she could accomplish - but it wasn’t just that. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had Jamie.

Said man was still on the bench behind her. Claire knew that he wouldn’t abandon her and she focused on his presence to calm herself. When her breathing was synchronized with his, she found that she could finally focus and read the letters on her book. She was ready.

On the small paper placed between the pages as a bookmark, she had scribbled a note some years ago. It was a quote of Mr. Edmund Burke: “Never despair; but if you do, work on in despair.”

_Let’s see how this goes, Mr. Burke._

Claire waited as patiently as possible but she soon realized that both she and Jamie couldn’t linger there long. Frank seemed lost in his reading. Maybe she could try her first option without raising suspicions.

 

Claire returned the book in her bag and slowly rose. Jamie was sitting on his bench, feigning to study their surroundings but she could see the set posture of his back. When he heard her rising he made an awkward move, as if his shirt was too tight on his back. With her head towards the ground she moved as quietly as possible and passed between the benches where the fierce Scot and the lean Englishman were sitting. The moment she left them behind she resumed her breathing, feeling her chest filling with hope. He hadn’t seen her, thank God. She could escape!

It was in the midst of her way to the little iron door when she heard Frank’s voice.

“Claire?” he sounded uncertain and Claire resolved not to stop. She forced herself to keep the same pace as before and not to run, even if her body urged her to rush out of this place.

No, that would raise more suspicions in Randall.

“Claire?” he repeated, a little more positive now. Claire continued walking.

She heard footsteps and felt a hand grabbing her arm. Frank forced her to turn around and the moment he saw her, he started shaking his head.

“What is this, now, Claire? A kind of disguise? I have to inform you that it almost worked!” he was even smirking now. “The contrast of your beauty and value, Claire, with the rags that you wear…” He seemed disappointed. “Where have you been all these years?” The force on her arm increased with the question and his smirk was transformed into a stern and angry look.

“Mr. Randall please let me go. My whereabouts doesn’t concern you” Claire responded in an acerbic tone.

“That’s your opinion on the matter, darling” he said lewdly without releasing her arm.

“You’re hurting me. Let me go!” Claire gnashed her teeth ready for a fight.

She didn’t need to do anything else, though. In two strides Jamie was between her and Frank, towering him and saying in a stern voice “Take yer hands of the lady”

Frank seemed surprised. In his excitement to see Claire he must have forgotten the other person in the park. “And who might you be, to order me what to do?” he replied. 

“The lady has been clear enough. Take yer hand off her. Now” a red hue started creeping from Jamie’s neck towards his face.

Seeing the huge angry Scot and then Claire again, Frank finally let her go.

Claire made a run for it. While she was passing through the iron door she heard him saying “This isn’t over, Claire!”

With her heart beating frantically, Claire ran to her house.

***

Someone was knocking on her door, in the dead of the night. It was so subtle that at the beginning that Claire thought she’d imagined it. The next knock was clear enough though.

He had found her.  
How had he discovered her so quickly? Claire held her breath and checked on Fergus. Luckily, the boy was so exhausted of the day’s chores and play that only a canon ball could wake him. If she feigned that nobody was inside, maybe Frank would be tired and leave.

The knocks didn’t stop. They hadn’t become louder, as she’d guessed – only more frequent. Maybe he was afraid of waking the rest of the residents. And well so, because if they’d see him dressed as he was in that afternoon in the middle of Saint Antoine, his future wouldn’t seem very prosperous –if he’d have a future at all.

The last knocks were accompanied by a voice. It was almost a whisper and Claire moved towards the door, walking on her toes. She heard him more clearly now.

  
Only it wasn’t Frank’s voice.

In an abrupt move she opened her door and Jamie almost fell on her.

“Oh, Sassenach” he said exhaling and he embraced her while all the air left his body.

“Jamie, what are you doing here?” she whispered and took a step back to allow her eyes move on his body and check for injuries.

“I needed to be sure that ye’re alright, mo nighean donn. After these afternoon events” he trailed of and taking hold of her face with both his hands, he now asked her “Are ye alright?”

Claire was so moved by his troubled look that it took her a few moments before replying “Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Thank you, Jamie”

“I tried not to interfere, Claire – I really did. But when I saw him hurting you and forcing you to talk to him I…I just couldna bear it”

“I was so lucky –well, I clearly wasn’t lucky to see him at first place- but I was so lucky you were there. I don’t want to think what would have happened if-”

“Dinna say it. Nothing happened and nothing will happen to ye, as long as I am with ye. I’m here, Claire, and I willna let anything hurt ye”

Claire smiled ruefully at that “I wish we could just do this” and then realization hit her “You shouldn’t be here Jamie. It’s way too dangerous”

“Aye, now that I saw ye I can leave”

“But wait, how did you know where my room is?” she frowned at him.

“A had some assistance from a wee friend, ye ken” Jamie smiled and nodded towards the pallet where Fergus was sleeping.

“A wee fiend, you mean” Claire smiled with mischief and turned to face the boy that now, in his sleep, looked like an angel.

When she turned back to Jamie his face was somehow transformed. He looked at her with awe and care, as he had done before, but Claire could now see something more in the blue depths of his eyes. It was a feeling that awoke a pure force in her body; a force that pushed her soul out of it – ready to be handed to him. Her breath became shorter and she was suddenly highly aware of her inappropriate appearance. She was only in her shift.

She didn’t have time to react and reach for something to cover herself.  
Jamie, with dark eyes, raised his hand slowly caressing her jaw line and finally weaving his fingers in her loose curls. In that moment Claire nearly forgot everything; her appearance, the danger of having Jamie there, the sleeping form of Fergus two feet behind her. Closing her eyes, she revelled in his warmth. His hand pressed her head lightly towards his direction; a suggestion, an inquiry for admittance. Raising her eyelids as from a deep sleep, Claire saw in his eyes exactly the same thing she thought he could see in hers. A thirst to drink from each other, to share, to give and to take and leave nothing between them to keep them apart.

Placing her hand on his nape Claire rose on her toes while Jamie’s free hand moved strong on her waist drawing her flush on him. He took her lips gently in his gifting her with a sweet and smoky taste of whisky and Claire wandered how she had lived all these years without kissing him. He licked her lower lip and she instinctively opened her mouth to him, taking his tongue in and letting all her feelings sip into her kiss. Her body was burning and she knew her heart was beating in the same rhythm as his, eager to leave their confinements and unite as one.

When they had to pause for breath, they reluctantly left some air invade the space between their mouths. With their bodies glued to one another, they breathed each other, savouring little touches until their heartbeat started slowing down. It took an awful lot time for a slight decrease in their pulse to be achieved.

Jamie smiled at her, looking at her riot curls that were even worse after their kiss.  
“Mo nighean donn” he whispered.

“What does that mean? You’ve said that before” Claire asked, eager to know.

“Aye, it means my brown haired lass. Claire…” he stopped and blushed “I’m sorry I didna ask ye for permission before kissing ye – I… I wasna able to stop or to think properly wi ye glowing, like the moon in a dark sky, so beautiful in front of me” he said shyly, looking at his feet.

Claire laughed at that and cupped his cheek with her palm, raising his head to look him in the eye. “If I didn’t want you to kiss me, Jamie, you’d know it – believe me”

Jamie grinned. “I s’posed that, Sassenach. Risked having a black eye tomorrow, did I?” he teased her.

She shrugged, attempting a most innocent look.  
Jamie grazed the back of his fingers on her cheek. “I have to leave now, Sassenach” he announced ruefully.

Claire nodded, her eyes now on the floor to hide her disappointment “Yes, you have”

“When will I see ye again? Tomorrow?” impatience and hope fought for the reins of this tone.

“Tomorrow?” Claire paused to think. “Yes. Tomorrow will be just fine. At four o’clock, at Master Raymond’s apothecary. It’s close to the Louvre” she suggested, only now thinking that they would be much more protected in the apothecary than in any other place. She had to explain to Raymond, of course but it was a far better option than any public place. Why didn’t she think about it before?

“No” Jamie said resolutely, attracting Claire’s bewildered glance. “How will ye come there? No, Sassenach, tis not safe” he explained.

“I’ve been there often and Master Raymond is a friend. It will be alright” she assured him.

“Are ye sure Claire?” he asked worried.

“Yes, it is safe Jamie”

He nodded. “Be careful, Sassenach. If anything happens and ye canna come, I’ll come back here tomorrow, aye?”

“No! It’s too risky Jamie. I will be there. Now go!”

Jamie shook disapprovingly his head whispering something in the Gaidhlig but leaned to her with a smile. Claire felt his hand on her nape and his lips soft on hers and eagerly reciprocated the kiss. When they reluctantly stopped, Jamie took her in his arms and kissed her forehead.

“I already miss ye, Sassenach and I haven’t even left ye yet” he said in a husky voice.  
He smelled her hair once more and was lost in the dark.


	10. We’ll find a way

Jamie heard the church bells spread their sweet heavy chimes thrice.

_One more hour._

There would probably be no chimes in the air in the years to come. The corruption of the church and the higher clergy wealth were more than obvious and mostly obnoxious to the people. Jamie didn’t mind about the Catholicism in France, raised as a Catholic himself, but the ministry of church was now far from being holy. It had nothing to do with the word of God, with the clergy becoming the First Estate of the realm. The largest landowner of the country, that was what the church was, making tremendous income from the outrageous taxes given from its tenants; tenants that didn’t have enough to feed themselves and their families. Jamie had heard that it was a plan of the Revolution to abolish the privileges of the First and Second Estate. When done, the church would finally lose its power on people’s lives. They would be free of its rein.

But the bells were another thing on their own. Jamie liked the bells. They provided stability and normality, a reference point during the day. Their sound filled the air as if it was solid, filling each and every empty space in the atmosphere with purity and hope. Hearing them was a gift of peace, making him feel that sometimes they were ringing just for him. Following him around during the day, they were always there, invisible but strong and they filled his heart with an inexplicable optimism.

However, that sound would soon to be no more. Although it was a pity to lose their beautiful chimes, the joy of losing their master’s effect in human lives was making him anticipate that day with all his heart.

For now, the bells were aiding his counting the hours passing; the hours separating him from Claire.

 

He’d been eager to leave the wineshop since morning and he’d already asked Murtagh –as nonchalantly as possible– where Master Raymond’s apothecary was. Trusting that Murtagh directed him right, he would need less than fifteen minutes to reach the place from the wineshop, but he didn’t want to be late and have Claire wait for him.

A little after half past three he made to collect his coat and leave.

“Where d’ ye think ye go lad?” Murtagh asked, seeing Jamie from the corner of his eye.

“I thought I could take a break, a goistidh. I’m working till dawn, aye?” Jamie replied with an innocent look.

“Ye’re working till two hours past down, lad. If ye recall I couldna wake ye up this morning. And from the moment ye’re on yer feet ye didna stop smiling and whistling, ye wee gomerel”

“Aye, tis a crime then?” Jamie said, grinning even now.

“Tis no crime but I canna say tis good and well, Jamie lad. What d’ye have in mind?”

“Nothing” Jamie shrugged and attempted a change on the subject “Are we expecting another batch of red wine today?”

Murtagh replied with a nebulous “Mmmphmm”, totally ignoring Jamie’s attempt for a fresh conversation. “Ye met wi’ Annalise yesterday? Is she the reason of yer well-being?” Murtagh frowned.

“Annalise?” Jamie looked at him surprised. When he realized that he had actually seen Annalise the day before, he nodded “Aye, we met”.

“Ye’re in love wi’ the lass then?” Murtagh was frowning, his black eyebrows almost connected.

Jamie couldn’t but only laugh at that. “I dinna give a fig about the lass Murtagh – in a personal manner that is”. He looked Murtagh in the eye and continued somberly “She’s alright, I s’pose. But ye know that I am seeing her as… a matter of business”

“Aye, business ye say and business is what I knew. Till yesterday, that is. But now wi’ ye smiling like the cheetie that got the cream…”

“Well, her skin is like cream” Jamie whispered too low for Murtagh to hear. “I have to go man!” he said louder, facing a worried Murtagh and grinning again before he walked towards the door.

“We’ll talk when ye come back, d’ ye hear me lad?” he heard Murtagh’s determined voice from the back of the shop.

“Aye, we’ll do!” he answered with a huge smile in his face.

 

Jamie ascended the numerous stairs leading to Master Raymond’s apothecary by two or even three at a time. His pulse was pounding in his temples and he had to stop and compose himself before entering the shop. He didn’t know who this Master Raymond was, but it seemed that Claire trusted him and Jamie wanted to make a good impression on the man.

The little bell above the carved wooden door rang and Jamie stopped in his tracks, trying to adjust in the apothecary’s darkness. Little bottles labeled with nice calligraphic letters were sitting on shelves all around him, clean and orderly, and a life-size crocodile was hanging from the ceiling.

_Well, that was eccentric, at least._

A huge wooden counter divided the shop in two parts and Jamie saw a young woman behind it, watching him.

“Puis-je vous aider??” she said with a kind voice.

“I’m looking for…” Jamie trailed off. Whom should he ask for? Claire? Raymond?

A small door opened at the back of the shop and a short, stout man walked towards him. He was well dressed, wore a wig and smiled with friendly eyes while approaching. Jamie thought that he was as close to a frog as any human could ever look like, but tried to diminish such reflections from his mind.

“Bonjour monsieur” the frog – _no, not frog_ – the man said with a small nod of his head.

“Bonjour. Ye must be Master Raymond?” Jamie smiled at him hopefully.

“Indeed I am. And judging from your accent you must be James, no?”

Jamie nodded grinning. Claire had talked to this man about him!

“So how may I help you James? Is there something specific that you need?”

_Quite specific,_ Jamie thought _. And what an exceptional choice of a verb. Need. That was true enough; he needed to see Claire as much as he needed water to sustain him alive._

A light cough brought his thoughts back in the apothecary. Master Raymond was smiling at him with a knowing look in his face that made Jamie blush. Shaking his head he whispered “ah, l’amour” and then led Jamie to the back of the shop, saying with a light move of his eyebrows, “Follow me monsieur”.

Master Raymond opened the same door he’d used to enter the main apothecary space and a second room was revealed to Jamie. The door frame was a bit small and he had to duck as he came through it. The moment he entered the room his eyebrows shot so high, they almost touched his hairline. And Jamie had a big brow, to be sure.

Skulls and bones were all around him, placed in immaculate clean dark wooden shelves, looking at him with black holes instead of eyes. He instantly remembered the crocodile in the other room and decided that the amicable frog-like apothecary had a macabre side as well; or a queer sense of humour. The fossils belonged to various animals and the fact that -at least- they weren’t human made Jamie feel a bit better. Tiny similar skulls were standing one next to another while huge skulls from animals Jamie had only seen as pictures in books were in spots reserved to highlight their superiority. Everything was placed with such care, giving the sense that each one of the exhibits was valued as a treasure from their owner. Absentmindedly, Jamie stood by the door and stared around the room.

 

A light touch on his palm made him turn his glance, only to be captured from the most alluring panther eyes looking back at him. His heart missed a bit and then he sighed with relief.

_Claire, safe, with him._

Jamie smiled and instinctively raised his free hand to rearrange a stray curl behind Claire’s ear.

“Hello”, he whispered and his fingers lingered a bit on her jaw line, feeling her smooth cream skin. How right Murtagh was, even without knowing a thing!

With her lips in a smile she responded with the most beautiful “hello” he’d ever heard.

“I’m leaving you two now, but please behave!” Master Raymond said with a laugh, while heading to the door.

Claire gave him a look and his smile grew bigger.

“Just remember, mon chéri, you don’t have much time”

“I know, Raymond” Claire nodded gravely.

 

With her hand still engulfed in Jamie’s she led him to a bench at the side of the room.

“Interesting meeting point, Sassenach” Jamie said looking around.

Claire laughed. “Master Raymond is not a common apothecary to be sure”

“What are all these, Claire? How come he possesses such things?”

“Oh, these are his pride and joy, or so he says. He will be delighted if you ask him about any of these focils but he never talks about where and how he found them.”

“He’s a strange fellow. D’ ye know him well, lass?”

“Yes Jamie, he might be particular but I can reassure you that he is never going to hurt us”

 

_Us._ She couldn’t give him a greater gift. Every time Claire talked about them as one, the blood in his veins started dancing.

 

With both his hands enveloping hers he accepted her reassurance.

“How are you, Claire? Fergus? How are things in Saint Antoine?” he asked with one breath.

Claire laughed and squeezed his hand. “As you left them, yesternight”. Taking a stern look on her face, she continued “You shouldn’t come, Jamie. You should never come again.”

“I couldna but come Claire, don’t ye understand? How could I sleep knowing ye might be in danger?”

“Coming in Saint Antoine puts yourself in danger Jamie” she scolded.

“Not at night!”

“What if someone saw you? And asked me today? What could I possibly say to explain things?”

“Ye could say I was sick” he said with a smirk.

“Jamie! You surely understand this isn’t the point!” Claire said, rolling her eyes.

“Aye, I do. I had to see ye and I came and I don’t regret it” he stopped, feeling all his confidence leaving him “Did ye regret it, Claire?”

 

_Maybe that’s why she didn’t want him back again._

 

Claire caressed his cheekbones lightly before closing the distance between them. When her hand reached his nape she pulled him to her lips and kissed him, softly and tenderly for enough time to persuade him of her opinion.

Their kiss was long, but not enough. It seemed it was never enough.

With lips separated, hands tightly intertwined and chests heaving they stared each other for some minutes without saying anything.

Between them, it seemed that words weren’t enough either.

 

But they had to talk. To finish what they’d started in the park and find out what their next step was going to be.

“Who was the man in the park, Claire?” Jamie asked in a low voice.

“What did he tell you after I left?” Claire asked troubled.

“Nothing. He just looked at me, as if he sorted me in a category in his head, nodded and left with an “Excusez moi, monsieur”. Who is he?” Jamie insisted.

Claire took a breath and replied with tight lips while gazing the floor. “Randall. Frank Randall. He’s a historian, was a colleague of my uncle”.

“And?” Jamie encouraged her to continue.

“And he wanted to marry me” she said, raising her head to see his reaction.

Jamie swallowed hard, trying to speak calmly and not show the pain he was feeling “Are ye promised to him Sassenach?”

To his relief, her eyes became big as saucers after hearing that. “No! Of course not! I’d never accepted him and he has no right on me!”

“Maybe ye didn’t, but yer uncle… Ye said they were colleagues”  
  
“Lamb would never do that. He told him to ask me and when he did, I refused. But he insisted. He couldn’t let it go. He would come again and again, trying to convince me of my grave mistake. I think he took it personally. It wasn’t about me anymore, it was about rejecting him. I had to leave everything behind and move to Saint Antoine for him to lose me completely. And it’d been nine years since I last saw him.”

Jamie said nothing but kept nodding, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Jamie, I thought he wouldn’t recognize me yesterday. And we had to return at any moment and he lingered there… I didn’t have another choice”

“I ken that, Sassenach. We were unlucky yesterday. D’ ye think that he’ll search for ye, now that he knows ye’re here?”

“I don’t know, Jamie. But he surely can’t come at Saint Antoine!”

“No, he canna. But he could send someone, no?”

“I guess so” Claire said and Jamie felt the urge to take her in his arms and never let her go a step away from him. But that was still impossible.

Thinking how he could keep her safe, he came to his last resort, the least preferable but the only plausible option.  
“Ye have to be careful from now on, Sassenach. Be alert. If someone follows ye, ye have to stay close at home and always keep a company there around ye.”

Claire, with a sorrowful expression in her face, sighed. “Hiding again” she murmured.

“There is no other way” Jamie said stoking her hand reassuringly. “I wish I could just take ye with me, mo mighean donn” he resumed with a rueful smile “but this will make everything more complicated and maybe it’ll be easier for him to find ye that way”

She nodded without a word.

“I’ll keep ye safe, Claire. I promise. We’ll find a way out of this.” With two fingers under her chin Jamie raised her face and kissed her, burying his desperation and putting all his encouragement in his kiss.

“And who will keep you safe?” she retorted after the kiss, in higher spirits now.

“Your kiss, Sassenach”

“Oh, a warrior and a poet! What am I to do with you, James Fraser?” Claire was smiling, lightening all the dark space around her.

 

_Marry me._

 

He’d almost said it. There, amidst the skulls and the bones of long dead animals, he’d almost asked her to marry him.

 

_Not now ye clotheid. Tis not the time yet._

 

Instead he opened his arms and closed her in his hug, with her cheek touching his chest and their hearts beating as one.

“Jamie?” She said while standing upright again. “What have you done with the Comte?”

“Nothing yet. I hope I’ll learn something in the promenade the day after tomorrow.”

“I was just thinking that if I remember correctly he had a châteaux in Maine. Maybe you could check if he went there”

“Aye, that’s great information Sassenach. Thank ye! I’ll see to it. I dinna ken how long he’s going to last in Maine, though. People there took arms and support the revolution, ye ken” he said with a tone of satisfaction in his voice.

Claire smiled. “Glad I could help, Jamie.” She then added, with concern in her eyes ”Are you going to the promenade alone?”

_Now how d’ye answer this one?_

“No” Jamie said while moving the muscles of his back, as if his shirt was suddenly too tight. “I will accompany Annalise, Claire, but –”

“It’s alright, Jamie, I know. I just wanted to know”. Her reply was firm.

“I wish I hadna do this” he resigned, with slumped shoulders.

“I know” Claire repeated, with a sad smile. “We have to go. You stayed much too long in the apothecary for a wine salesman”

Jamie snorted. “Are we meeting again tomorrow, here?”

“I don’t know Jamie. Maybe not tomorrow – if someone saw us today we’ll be making it way too easy for him. Maybe wait a while?”

 

_She’d better told him that he’d had to carry all the wine barrels for the year by himself. But she was right._

 

“Where is the wineshop?” she asked with a flash in her eyes.

Jamie looked at her, bewildered. “Claire, ye canna come to the wineshop, ye surely know that”

“I can’t. But I know someone who can!” she winked at him, but his frown didn’t leave his brow, so she continued “Cl-“ she shook her head “Fergus!”

Jamie smiled, understanding her plan and immediately informed her on the location of the shop. “Tell him to ask for me or Murtagh, aye?”

“Aye” she mocked him.

“Making fun of me lass?” Jamie said and with a hand on her waist pulled her to him.

“I most certainly am!”

“Well then, ye’ll have to pay for that!” he said and kissed her fiercely, first with mirth and then with passion, until they had no more breath.

 

“I’ll wait for Fergus, Sassenach. And I’ll think of ye” Jamie took two steps backwards and bowed to her before turning to leave.

He kept his eyes on her as long as possible, to commit her in his memory - with red lips and rose cheeks, smiling at him.


	11. Agony

He wasn’t in the wineshop.

 

Claire had sent Fergus again and again to find him during the last five days. These, added to the two days that she’d waited to be sure they’d be safe made it a full week.

A full week of heartbreaking agony.

Around her, everyone continued their normal lives, as if nothing had changed; but nothing was the same.

The attacks on the aristocrats had a totally different meaning to her now. This thing was getting on her nerves.

 

_What if Jamie was there, at the time of the attack?_

She could barely breathe even at the thought.

_Damned Scot! Where was he?_

 

Louis Bénigne François Bertier de Sauvigny, the intendant of Paris, had been accused for the food shortages in the city and starving the Third Estate. An armed party brought him back from his estate in Compiegne to answer the charges. After being beaten, stoned and seeing his father’s-in-low battered head, they’d hanged him from a lamp post in front of the Hôtel de Ville.

 _Hanged him._  
The words were echoing in her head.

_Let Jamie be away from them. Let him be safe._

 

Claire felt her knees wobble at the thought of him, well dressed to stay under-cover, around any of the armed parties and she reached for the closest piece of furniture to help her stay upright.

She’d tried to be calm, to continue thinking positively and believe in his promise.

“We’ll find a way out of this” he had said.

_Where was their way? Where was the secret path bringing them safe together?_

 

A light knock on her open door and Louise walked inside to find Claire slumped on the bed.

“Are you alright, Claire?” she asked and came to sit by her, worried.

“Yes, just a headache. Thank you Louise. What is the matter?”

“There is a servant, Claire, asking for you. Just outside.”

And she was thinking that things couldn’t get any worse. Her pulse drummed in her temples, her mouth dry, her hands shaking.

“A servant?” she whispered.

“Oui, he’s asking for you and I offered to call you”

 

That was a nightmare! Claire decided. Just another nightmare and she would wake up any moment now.

_You’re sleeping. Wake up. Wake up._

 

However, she didn’t wake up. The sun was still illuminating the room and Louise was in front of her, real as ever, with her kind green eyes looking intently in Claire’s.

With shaken breath, she tried to think.

He had found her. The ever bloody persistent Frank Randall. She was just a bet for him, that was sure, but the reasoning behind his actions wouldn’t change anything on the result.

“No, Louise, please.” Claire shook her head and continued “Can you please tell him that I wasn’t here? That you didn’t find me?”

Louise nodded, her eyebrows lowered. “Who is he Claire? Who is sending him?”

“I…I don’t know. But I don’t want anything to do with him – whoever he is”

When Louise left the room Claire hid behind the curtain. She didn’t dare look at the street. When she finally built up her courage to move the curtain just a tiny bit, she saw Louise talking to the man and then his back moving away.

Claire resumed breathing again.

 

***

 

Two more days without news from Jamie.

This waiting was driving her crazy.  
She almost wished he would come find her at Saint Antoine. At night, when it wasn’t dangerous. Well, at least not so dangerous.

She hadn’t slept the last nights. She was sitting on her bed in the dark, Fergus’ calm breathing the only thing keeping her sane. She wanted to be sure she wouldn’t miss any knock on her door. His knock on her door, particularly.

Jamie hadn’t come though.  
That was for the best, Claire kept saying to herself – it was safer.

  
***

 

The tenth day started with a bright sun on the sky and dark pit in Claire’s heart.  
She dressed with shaking hands and started for Master Raymond’s. Maybe he knew something. People were talking while being in the shop and he was good in extracting information. If he didn’t already have any news about Jamie, she could ask him to find out what had happened.

Her steps were fast and reckless. She couldn’t notice who was on the streets anymore, who might see her. Her cheeks were flushed, her steps hardly restrained not to end up in a run, her surroundings blurred and insignificant.

 

With her heart in her mouth she opened the door hearing the small bell ringing above her head.

“Claire, mon chéri!!” Master Raymond’s smile quickly disappeared when he saw her face. “What’s happened Madonna?” his hands were on her shoulders to comfort her.

Claire removed herself before he had time to hug her. She knew that with just a little bit of warmth and soothing she would crumble on the floor. Gnashing her teeth she took a deep breath to prevent the tears well up in her eyes.

“Have you heard from Jamie?” she didn’t bother with an introduction.

Raymond’s worried eyes crinkled just a bit before a tiny smile appeared on his mouth. “Come, Claire”

He walked behind the wooden counter and emerged with an envelope in his small hand. Smiling, he handed it to Claire.

 

Claire took the envelope with her name, written on it by an unknown hand. But she knew this hand too well, even if she’d never encountered the letters it created. Sitting on the small chaise Raymond had in the shop she opened the white envelope.

She didn’t dare unfold the paper that was now in her hands. So many days of angst, worry and heartbreak were now condensed, forming a lump in her throat and blocking her breath.

She closed her eyes and drew his image in her head. His broad shoulders, his strong hands, his red curls, the immense blue eyes, the smile that filled her heart with joy.

 

With her eyes opened and her heart more stable she unfolded the letter.

It was laconic and her eyes hoped on the letters, consoled and frightened all in once.

 

_My Sassenach,_

She breathed the letters in, as if it was the oxygen she kept missing all the previous days. His Sassenach. His.

 _I won’t be in Paris for the next few days._  
_Forgive me, Claire – I have to._  
_I will come back to you, I promise._  
_Think of me._

_J_

 

Claire read the small note again and again, till her tears threatened to blur the black ink letters and she couldn’t make out the words anymore.

“When?” she whispered, looking frantically towards Raymond, but the sound leaving her lips was too faint for him to hear.

With all the strength left in her, she asked again.

“When?”

Raymond looked at her and came by her side.

“Let me think” he said crinkling his brow “I think it was five days ago”

“Five days” Claire murmured to let the information sink in.

“Do you want to talk Claire?” he asked her, trying to ease the pain in her face.

Claire shook her head and tried to smile, although she needed all her fortitude to alter the pressed form of her lips.

 

After the first comfort that enveloped her, knowing Jamie was alive, a bigger terror settled in her mind. Five days.

 

_Where was he and why did he leave?_

_Had to leave, as he, himself, wrote?_

 

There was no safe place, not anymore. But knowing that he was in the city, relatively close to her, was a thought that gave her courage.

Now he was away, in a place she didn’t know, with people she knew nothing of.

_Was he on a trip with the aristocrats? With his fancy Annalise?_

_No. Not his._ Claire swallowed the bile in her throat. _Just Annalise. She would never be his._

 

She raised the letter, reading again the reassuring part of it, to fortify herself.

_I will come back to you, I promise._

With her hands in fists and her eyes closed, Claire pleaded. _Don’t break your promise, James Fraser. Come back to me. Please._

 

Biting her lips, she lowered her eyes on the paper.

_Think of me._

Silly man.  
Like he didn’t occupy every nook of her existence already.  
Every minute. Every day.

Rising from the couch, Claire ran her fingers on his letters.

_Oh, God. Let him be safe._


	12. Waiting

Days were coming and going, the sun rising and dropping in a red sky, leaving the night to envelope the city of Paris. Wounds were mended and other wounds were opened but the wound in Claire’s heart remained there, exposed and painful.

A part of her was missing.

People in Saint Antoine were happy, were angry, were fierce and revengeful; were winners. What they were not, was sated. Their thirst for blood was far from quenched.

The first and second estates were on the losing side. The National Constituent Assembly abolished the tax paid to the Church and the nobility’s privileges bringing the end of feudalism. And this end was far from quiet. The aristocratic society was destroyed. On the 26th of August the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen was published.

 

On the 26th of August more than a month had passed since Claire first met Jamie. And almost three weeks since she last saw him.

Three weeks were far too many. Many more than what she could endure. She stayed at home, keeping Fergus close. With Jamie missing and Frank searching for her, Claire knew she was far from safe. After her visit at Raymond’s, Fergus had gone twice more to the wineshop in search for Jamie but his attempts were both times fruitless.

Claire’s nerves were on the edge. She kept silent most of the days, screaming inside with despair. She couldn’t show that however, she couldn’t leave her emotions free because she knew that they would devour her.

Only at night in her sleep she heard her voice screaming, waking her up. Screaming her fears. With her guard down, dread always found her.

He might be dead.

Just one thought, tearing her up in million pieces.

Fergus always came to her bed after these incidents, hugging her with all his might with his tiny hands around her waist and his head cuddled under her chin.

“He will come back Milady” he used to say “I have his snake. He will come to take it back”

And the saddest smile reached Claire’s lips.

 

**

 

The servant who was trying to find Claire came to Saint Antoine three more times. She was now sure that he was sent from Frank. He would leave her alone, even now that she didn’t belong to his world.  
He was seeking retribution. He needed to punish her for not accepted him.

But how did he know where to find her? Had the servant searched the whole Saint Antoine looking for her?

Fergus had memorized his face in his second visit and was always alert to warn Claire in case he was around again. Protecting her, her little man.

Lucky as she might be, Clare knew that she couldn’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later he would see her. She started wearing a cap to hide her riotous curls from sight.

Claire hated caps. She had declared at the age of sixteen that she would never wear them, making her uncle laugh. But he let her do as she liked. She had never wore a cap before their arrival in France, why would that change now?

Years later, Clare changed her resolution after that first time the servant told Louise to call her. She needed a disguise and if wearing a cap could save her, it was a must-do compromise.

 

**

 

When Fergus came in their room that noon, stopping at the door to catch his breath Claire was certain that Frank’s servant was around again.

“What is it, Fergus?” she asked with her heart in her mouth.

“Mtgh was… was… here” Fergus said gasping between breaths, with his curls moving frenziedly as he was bobbing his head. Claire couldn’t understand for whom he was talking about and that made her even more scared.

“Who is here?” she said, as she approached the rose-cheeked boy.

“Murtagh, Milady. The man from the wineshop. With the beard.”

“Murtagh is here?” Claire exclaimed with huge eyes and raised eyebrows, all her fear vanishing. “Where? Where is he?”

“He left Milady” Seeing Claire’s face clouding again he rushed to continue, “He said that everything is alright. He said he will come back. At night, at one o clock. You must be ready. He will knock her door twice, he said.”

“Did he say anything about Jamie, Fergus?” Claire asked when the boy passed on all the information he had.

“No, milady. Just this. Je suis désolé” Fergus said with forlorn look on his face.

“Thank you mon chou” Claire replied with a tiny smile, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

 

Thirteen hours until she could find out what had happened. Thirteen more hours of agony.

What Murtagh’s visit meant? He said that everything was alright, but if it was so why hadn’t Jamie come? Why he had to send Murtagh instead?

Something was amiss and doubts crawled in Claire’s mind, little bugs leaving wet trails behind and making her twitch with grim thoughts.

If Jamie was dead would Murtagh come at night to announce it to her? Wouldn’t he just call her at that moment? Or he needed time and less commotion so he could console her?

No, Jamie couldn’t be dead.

What if he wasn’t dead just yet but he was mortally wounded?  
Claire resolved that she would do everything she could to keep him with her. But she had to be by his side.

A lighter thought came then to her, that Jamie was fine, sending Murtagh as a precaution not to be caught.

Wouldn’t in this case Murtagh set an appointment for them? They could still meet at master Raymond’s as they had initially planed.

Claire’s mind was racing, thinking and rejecting all possible explanations. She had no patience, not anymore. However, she had no other choice but to wait.

 

At midnight Claire was ready. Fergus was sleeping on his pallet and the room was submerged in the dark. A tiny slice of the moon was visible in the night sky, in company of millions of stars; each one standing for a painful beat of Claire’s heart during all these days away from Jamie.

She heard the clock chiming at half past twelve. Just half an hour now. Just half an hour away from the truth, whatever this truth would be.

Claire heard three light knocks on her door. The sound was feathery, in contrast with the bold hand producing it behind the wood.

Wrapping herself in her shawl she opened the door to see the grump man.

Murtagh’s face was adorned with shadows and scratches and Claire felt her chest tightening.

He nodded at her and said, in a low voice “Mistress. Follow me. Stay right behind me and hide in the shadows. Don’t talk or make any other noise”

Claire could only say one thing in return and this came out only as a whisper “Jamie?”

“Aye the lad is well – considering. Ye’ll meet him promptly” and then started towards the stairs, ascending them like a ghost, without releasing a single sound.

 

Claire followed him out at the street and then towards the centre of Paris. In all their way her thoughts were grasped on the Murtagh’s reassurance, as if on a prayer.

 

_Ye’ll meet him promptly. Ye’ll meet him promptly._

 

They were deep in the western part of the city, way further than the Louvre and very close to the Royal Palace when she noticed how far they had gone into this unsafe area. Murtagh was walking fast and she followed him without great effort, her adrenaline reaching extremely high levels.

 

_Ye’ll meet him promptly._

 

She didn’t care if she wasn’t safe anymore. All her being was focused on Jamie. Walking for him. Breathing for him. Living for him.

Murtagh took a turn and stopped in front of the second house. It was huge and luxurious, as were all the rest in the neighbourhood. It was ironic to think of such huge differences in lodgings within thirty minutes walking distance, but this was how things were.

Rounding the house Murtagh led Claire to a door that she surmised was purposed for the servants.

The door opened without a crackling noise and their feet sank in the soft deep pile carpet. It was almost ten years from the last time Claire had felt a carpet subsiding beneath her steps. It felt wonderful.

They went up the stairs and through a long corridor full of portraits. She tried to see if some of the faces reminded her of Jamie, but most of the men and women were dark haired. The light was too little to see any other of their characteristics.

At the end of the corridor Murtagh stopped and opened a door. Instead of entering, he pushed Claire lightly on the back to lead her in front of him.

Claire had taken two steps inside the room when she heard the door closing behind her, leaving Murtagh outside in the corridor.

 

The room was simple, a single candle on a bedside table spreading more shadows than light around it. Claire’s eyes trailed from the table to the double bed next to it, its metal frame drawing eerie shapes on the wall. In the middle of the bed just opposite her, Claire saw what would rip her heart away.

A trembling breath escaped her body, leaving her unsteady - but she didn’t give in her weakness.  
After a whispered “Oh, Jamie” she ran next to him.


	13. Wounds to be Healed

Every day the sun goes up and falls in the horizon, alluring us in a circle of life that promises stability. We believe that everything important remains the same, even if it’s not quite there to catch it, like the sunrays that creep in a dark alley, their heat enough to dry the wet cobblestones. In life’s misleading assurance, we take things for granted. Like seeing the color in someone’s iris. Listening to a quiet, unlabored breath. Holding a hand and feeling the fingers tighten against our own.

 

Claire’s heart sank in the pit of her stomach when Jamie didn’t respond to her whisper, his hand lifeless under her fingers. It squeezed when she saw the wounds on his shoulders, trailing down to his chest until they disappeared under the plaid blanket. It cracked when she saw his other hand, laid carefully on his stomach, wrapped in blood-stained cloths.

 

But the coarse, whistling sound that left his body with each breath kept her heart whole. He was still breathing.

Hope engulfed Claire’s heart, securing it in place to beat for both of them.

 

Claire moved a few red locks away from his damp forehead, placing a tender kiss between his furrowed eyebrows. He was burning up in fever, but her lips made the wrinkle disappear and she smiled to herself.

 

_I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you now._

Slowly, ever so lightly, she brought her lips to his feverish forehead, his straight nose, his cracked lips.

 

“Damn you, Jamie Fraser. You scared me half to death.” Claire whispered when she parted hers lips from his, leaving only an inch of air between them, to share his breath with her eyes shut.    

 

“I’m sorry, Sassenach.” It was a croaked voice, one that faintly reminded her of the sweet, deep voice she knew but it was  _his_  voice, nonetheless, and sounded like the most beautiful sound to her ears.

 

“Jamie! Oh, Jamie!” Claire felt her breath knocked out of her body as she whispered his name, lost in the unfathomable blue in his eyes that looked back at her hooded from fever. Falling on her knees next to the bed, her hand searched his, only to stop and hover above it, unable to touch it.

 

“How do you feel?” She asked in a shaking voice.

 

“I’ll bide.” He answered, wincing as he tried to move.

 

“What…? What happened?” Claire heard her voice quiver as she rose to her feet to examine Jamie’s hand.

 

“I had to, Sassenach.” Jamie’s tone was apologetic and he closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength to continue. “There was a wee lad, Claire, alone. I couldn’t leave him there.” Tears ran down his cheekbones moistening the soft white pillow, and Claire’s attention moved from the cloths around his hand to his pale face.

 

“Where? Where were you? Where did you find that lad?” She asked as she brushed away his tears that kept falling. Jamie didn’t move, the only mark of his distress his tears and hoarse voice.

 

“We attacked Comte St Germain’s estate in Maine. We’d never find it if it wasn’t for your information, Claire, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” Jamie whispered, opening his eyes, and Claire clasped his healthy hand hard, to help him continue. “We broke the gate and entered the house. I went myself in search for him but he… he disappeared, somehow. He was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had seen our torches as we approached, I dinna ken. But now he has nothing left to him, nowhere to come back. He has no power anymore and he willna terrorize anybody ever again.” The smile that tugged his lips up while narrating their victory was soon lost again. “The Comte wasna in the estate but the wee lad was there, all alone, Claire, hiding behind an armchair. I dinna ken who he was but they would kill him if they’d find him, just because he was an aristocrat. He was less than five years old, Sassenach, rosy cheeked and young. So young… ” He trailed of, with his chaffed lips bloody from use.

 

Claire gulped. “So, you helped the boy.” She concluded, getting a nod from him. “And why are you injured? Who attacked you?”

 

“Five men. Our men. For I wanted to protect the boy.” Jamie snorted and tried for a rueful smile, only to be stopped by the painful stretch of his chapped lips. “When they put the estate on fire I run out with the lad in my arms, but he was terrified. He started crying and they heard him, facing us at the front entrance. Five, and me alone… I wanted to save him, Sassenach, I tried, but –”

 

“What did they do to your hand?”

 

“They aimed for the lad, ye ken. My eyes started watering from the fire’s smoke and I tried to catch the pitchfork before it reached the wee one. I missed it, and it found my hand in an… undesirable way.” He finished lamely.

 

“ _Found_  your hand? You mean it crushed your hand.” Claire corrected him as she turned her attention on the hand again. Revealing the skin underneath the cloths, her breath hitched.

 

Sobs started raking Jamie’s body and Claire’s heart snapped in two.

 

_He didn’t manage to save the lad._

 

“They took him, Claire. Ran the pitchfork through his little body in front of my own eyes.” Painful gasps hurt his battered body, but he continued through gnashed teeth, as if he had to. He felt that he had to acknowledge what had happened that night, to say it aloud to face its monstrousness. “I wanted to vomit and at the same time I wanted to kill them and take revenge. Murtagh took me away before I did neither, and we returned to Paris on our own.” His breath had become deranged and Claire cupped his face with both hands, trying to bring him back to her – away of the madness of that night.

 

“You did your best, Jamie Fraser. Do you hear me?” She said in a commanding voice. “Your best.” She repeated. “You put yourself in danger, without even thinking about it, to save the lad you’d never set eyes on before.”

 

Jamie just shook his head, all her words swinging around his heart without reaching it. He didn’t leave anything to reach it, in case he’d forgive himself.

 

“Listen to me, you stubborn Scot. There was _nothing_  you could do. Sometimes we must accept what we can’t change. The violence and the death in this rising… we can’t always change that.” His glassy eyes found hers and her voice softened. “I’m proud of you, Jamie Fraser. And I need you to come back to me.”

 

Claire kissed his lips, wishing she could suck the despair out of him and heal him with her love. “I’m proud of you.” She whispered again, and saw his head moving slightly. Not a nod, but a tiny acceptance. A beginning. He believed her and through her, he would come to believe in himself again.

 

Claire didn’t want to leave his eyes, but her mind was racing, trying to settle on the best way to treat Jamie’s mangled hand. She wouldn’t leave him be a cripple. “How many days ago?” She asked, and with a kiss on his forehead her attention was on the crashed hand again.

 

“Yesternight.” Jamie answered and a long, shattered sigh escaped his mouth.

 

“Hush. Rest now.” Her voice was low, and she run two fingers along the stubble on his jawline, kissing one tear-stricken cheekbone.

 

Innumerable scratches were scattered on his chest and arms, a few blisters and a hand with two fractured phalanges and a broken metacarpal. Plus the fever, which was burning him alive.

 

“Claire…” His voice brought her out of her reverie and she turn her head to find his eyes looking intently at her.

 

“Yes?” She replied promptly, while frantically searching around for a glass of water. He was clearly dehydrated and there nothing in the room for him to drink. Claire needed to ask Murtagh for supplies.

 

“I missed ye, Sassenach.” Jamie whispered, a faint smile making more blood ooze from his lips.

 

Claire’s lips mirrored his smile and she bent to kiss him, sharing the metal taste of his blood, wishing she could share his pain as well – a burden for two to carry.

 

“You’re one of a kind, Jamie Fraser.” She mumbled, sharing his smile and shaking her head.

 

“It crossed my mind… that I’d might never see ye again.” His hand searched hers and their fingers intertwined instantly.

 

“Shhhh. I’m here. I’m not leaving you, alright?”

 

“Aye… Dinna leave me, my Sassenach.” Jamie’s was barely audible and his eyes closed slowly, taking the image of her with them.

 

Claire examined him more closely, running the candle’s light across his body.

Someone had stopped the bleeding from his hand. Good. She would need many clean cloths to clean the wound, and then, God help her, she would need to set the bones.

 

She wasn’t sure she could handle the pain in Jamie’s face as she would reposition the bones.

 

She would need brandy, a lot of brandy. Or even better, laudanum. The less he could feel, the better.

 

If Murtagh had told her more about Jamie’s condition, she would have her medicine kit with her and that would make everything much easier. As it was, if the supplies she needed were not accessible in the house, Murtagh would need to go back to her place to take her kit.

 

Jamie’s face was still scrunched up in his light sleep, the emotions too close to the face. With a kiss on the forehead, Claire walked quickly to the door in search for Murtagh. The moment Claire set her foot in the corridor, someone opened the door next to Jamie’s.

 

“What d’ye need, lass?” Murtagh asked in a low voice. No light was coming from his room and Claire could hardly see him for the faint light that escaped Jamie’s room.

 

“First, a glass of water, a basin with cold water and a cloth. He’s running a fever and he should drink a lot of liquids. There is not a single glass of water in there!” Her anxiety had caught up with her and her tone went from strict to exasperated. She didn’t want to unleash the panic in her heart, but she realized that she couldn’t rein it completely either.

 

“Alright, lass, calm down. I’ll bring the damn water!” Murtagh’s hands rose up in defeat. Of course, Claire was right, but they’d come back just that day and he had a lot explaining to do. In the madness of their return he forgot to renew the glass of water in Jamie’s room. He had to do everything on his own, since no one else should find out that Jamie was hurt. He had to keep his godson safe, and in his hurry he forgot to care for him. His eyebrows sank just above his eyes and his stare was lost somewhere in the dark corridor’s carpet.

 

Sensing the effect of her words, Claire reached for his hand. “It’s alright. I can help him now.” She whispered, squeezing the big calloused hand as she offered hope.

 

Murtagh had insisted that the less people that knew about Jamie’s condition, the better for him. Jamie in contrast, kept demanding that Murtagh should go find Claire. The stubborn lad kept repeating her name for so many hours, that in this end it sounded like a prayer in his lips. Having no other choice, Murtagh went to Saint Antoine to fetch her. Now that she was here, he could see the reason Jamie needed the lass. She was  _his_  lass, and her heart was as kind as his. She’d mended him before and she might as well help his battered godson now again.

 

“Murtagh, do you have any medicine here?” Claire asked, anxious.

 

“Ahh, I dinna think that we’ll have what ye’ll need to tend to Jamie. Where –”

 

Murtagh didn’t get to finish his question. “Can you go back to St. Antoine to bring my kit? Fergus is there, he will give it to you.”

 

“Aye.” Murtagh said and turned to leave.

 

“Murtagh!” Claire stopped him. “The basin and the water?”

 

“Aye, ye’ll have them in a minute, lass. Go in the room again and make sure no one sees ye.”

 

Claire nodded and walked back to Jamie’s room. He wasn’t asleep anymore, his eyes squeezed shut from pain – his heart’s pain or his body’s Claire couldn’t know.

 

“I’m back.” Claire whispered, her fingers swiping the sweat from his forehead. Jamie’s face relaxed and his lips tugged up in a small smile. Her presence was enough to sooth him and confidence flooded in Claire’s heart.

 

Jamie Fraser was a man of the heart, and his immense force always aimed to aid all those in need. He was destined to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. And Claire was made to protect him.

 

When Murtagh came back with the basin and the water, Claire’s thoughts were fixed on her goal.

 

She would heal him. She would see his smile again, his slanted eyes almost closed from joy.

She would hear him laugh, this deep sound springing from his heart.

 

And that was a silent promise, to him and to herself.

 

She would do whatever it’d take, but she would bring this man back, whole and hers.


	14. Seeking Safety

Paris was quietly immersed in the night’s darkness, its stillness disrupted only by the ticking and tocking of heavy clocks hanged above lavish fireplaces in the houses around the Royal Palace. These were the moments when it could fool any ignorant person that it was just another city in the world, sleeping under the moonlight. A cool breeze was sweeping away the sun’s heat from the streets’ cobblestones and the dirt had finally found some peace lying serenely on the earth, undisturbed by feet, hoofs and carriages. The city’s people though, were another matter altogether. The people were breathing the same air from two different sides and that made peace nothing but a wishful thought.

 

Claire knew that this calmness was a delusion, like the silent seconds when breaths are held in people’s chests before the deafening war cries lurking behind are freed again. Still, she found herself calming down as she brought the cloth from the cold water to Jamie’s forehead again and again, trying to fight his fever with the meagre means she had.

With Jamie’s heavy breathing as the only sound in the room, Claire silently praised God for the transient reprieve he could find. His respite didn’t last long though, before his sleep became restless and he woke up gasping, hands furiously gripping the sheets.

 

Nightmares, taking him by the hand and leading him back. Back to the terror, back to helplessness and self-condemnation. A boy’s face, stricken with tears, moments before the last of his voice was heard among men’s shouts.

Swallowing, Claire took Jamie’s mangled hand between hers to protect it from his own instincts and ran her fingers tenderly in his hair. She wanted to bring him back to her, even though she knew that a present where the fire had already eaten everything and the boy was dead was not a welcome thought. But she was there and he was alive. There were things that couldn’t be changed, no matter how hard one tried to relieve the world of pain. 

When Jamie’s breathing became even and his eyelids closed from fatigue, she focused her attention on the street outside, trying to listen of steps bringing Murtagh back. It took her only a moment to realize that in fact she didn’t want to listen to anything. If she could hear Murtagh other people would, too and it was never a good thing to find a man walking alone after midnight, no matter if he carried a medicine kit or three kittens with him.

 

It was approximately thirty minutes later, when Murtagh came back from St. Antoine with Claire’s medicine kit and a wee stubborn curly wig with sleepy eyes behind him.

Claire’s bulged eyes were answered by a taciturn “Mmphm”.

“Fergus!” The surprise was evident in her whisper. “Why aren’t you at home?” Her eyes moved from the boy to Murtagh and back as she bent to her knees to hold Fergus tight from his upper arms.

“The lad didna take no for an answer. I told him ye’d go back tomorrow morning but the wee gomerel followed me and I didna have time to go back and lock him in.”

Claire shook her head in dismay and raised the boy’s chin, so she could look into his eyes. “What you did was very dangerous, you surely know that. You should stay at home.” Her tone was strict but Murtagh, who had spent many hours raising another stubborn lad, could listen to the concern woven in her voice. 

“I go where you go, Milady. I have to protect you!” Fergus exclaimed, and Claire hushed him before he could continue.

“We have to be quiet. We’re not supposed to be here.”

Fergus’ repeated nods, together with his tightly pressed lips made Claire smile, and she petted the boy’s head. 

“And I brought this!” Fergus gave the louder most excited whisper possible, with glinting eyes and a huge smile as he showed her Jamie’s snake. “I took care of Sawny, but I thought Milord might want him back.”

“Milord?” Claire questioned but couldn’t hide her smile at the boy’s conclusions.

“Oui, Milady.” Fergus’ cheeks adopted an adorable rosy hue and his eyes focused on his worn shoes. “Is he sick?” He said, glancing at Jamie on the bed.

“He’ll be alright, don’t worry mon chou.” Claire reassured him, fervently wishing that she wasn’t lying.

“Oh, I don’t Milady. I know you’ll heal him!” He said giving her a broad smile, sure of her capability.

Fergus’s positivity brought some light in Claire’s heart. “Alright, then. Keep Sawny so you can give it to Jamie later. Are you tired?”

“Oui. It was a long way Milady.” Fergus stretched his limbs, as he always did before falling on his palette.

“Dinna fash, lass. The laddie can sleep in my room. Aye?” Murtagh intervened and nodded towards his room.

“Aaaaaye.” Fergus said with a yawn and followed Murtagh to his room. Just as Claire turned to retrieve her medicine kit from the floor, Fergus ran and trapped her in his little arms, hugging her as tight as he could.

With a kiss on his forehead, Claire bade her little rascal goodnight and walked to Jamie’s side.

 

She replaced the cloth on his forehead with a colder one and extended his arm to the side, taking his hand tenderly in hers. Murtagh came in with a basin of boiled water and more candles.

“I’ll be next door for everything else ye might need, lass.” He said and squeezed Claire’s hand.

Claire turned abruptly to look at him, surprised by his gesture. Seeing the concern in his eyes, she knew. Jamie meant a lot to this grumpy man, and he had all his hopes in her for mending him. 

Thanking him, she turned her attention to Jamie and took the bottle of laudanum from her kit.

It would be a long night.

 

–

 

It wasn’t easy to work on Jamie’s smashed hand. It wasn’t only the difficulty of setting each bone correctly. It was his pain that troubled Claire the most, because she could feel it as her own. She couldn’t compartmentalize as she usually did while working. No matter how much focused she was, with her hands stable and every move deliberate, she could still sense him. The laudanum she gave him was helping, but Claire couldn’t miss the fine line of his pressed lips, almost disappearing from his face. Every time Jamie flinched from pain, her heart sank a little deeper in her chest.

 

She was soaked in her own sweat when she was done, Jamie’s hand nicely splinted and dressed in clean boiled cloths. The sky’s darkness subsided, giving its place to a brighter blue that foreshadowed the coming of the new day. A new beginning. If she was to return to St. Antoine she should wake Fergus up and leave. With the day’s light it would be far too dangerous to move across the city.

_But how could she go? How could she leave Jamie, burning up in fever and still in pain?_

With a final look at his supine form on the bed, Claire set her jaw and made a decision.

She couldn’t leave. She had to find a way to stay hidden in Jamie’s room throughout the day. Going back to St. Antoine was not safe anyway. The moment she’d run out of lack, Frank’s servant would find her.

Frank and his persistence were a lose around her neck, getting tighter each day. She needed to breathe and she couldn’t breathe away from Jamie. At least not anymore.

 

It was almost an hour later that Jamie moved, slowly opening his eyes.

“I’m here.” She whispered and ran her fingers against his high cheekbones.

“Ye’re here.” He let out a breath and a tiny smile tugged his lips up as his eyes closed, reassured that she was there. A moment later he opened them again, terrified, and almost popped out of the bed. “Why are ye still here, Sassenach? It’s morning!”

“Yes, thank you, Jamie. I noticed.” Her eyes moved to the sun rays entering from the cleft between the heavy curtains bringing magic in, a trail of dust flying in the room like golden flakes.

“Ye should have left, Claire!” Jamie brought Claire back from her reverie. “If someone sees ye here…” She placed a hand on his chest easing him back on the mattress. “Tis no safe, Claire.” He insisted with his back was on the bed once more.

“Nothing is safe anymore, Jamie.” Claire stated with a rueful smile.

“Aye, but here – ”

Her lips were on his before he could finish. “I’m not leaving you. You’re still feverish and I’m sure this hand is making you suffer.”

Jamie huffed a resigned sigh. “I canna convince ye otherwise, can I?” At her negation his eyebrows almost touched above his straight nose. “And it’s already late. Dinna leave this room, mo cridhe. Please?”

“I won’t.” Claire smiled and placed a cold, wet cloth on his forehead. “I wander how we can get some broth in here, though.” She murmured with pursed lips.

Jamie ached to take these lips in his but couldn’t bring himself to rise from the bed.

_Shite._

“Milord! Milord!” A happy voice filled the room and a hoping Fergus got in, his smile so broad it almost reached his ears.  

The question in Jamie’s eyes was obvious, but all Claire did was to shrug apologetically.

“I brought Sawny!” Fergus explained, coming next to Jamie’s bed with the wooden snake in hand.

“Aye, ye’re a bonnie lad Fergus. Thank ye for taking care of him.” His smile was warm, lightening the pain in his face. “Seeing as I am a wee bit injured at the moment, d’ye see fit to keep him a little more?”

“Aye!” The boy mimicked Jamie. “But you feel better, right?” He asked eagerly. “Milady healed you?!” He half-asked.

“Aye, lad. She did.” Jamie eyes trailed back to Claire, carrying along his admiration and a thousand silent thanks.

Fergus turned to Claire, his big eyes full of hope. “Will we stay here, Milady?”

“Yes we are, Fergus. For today.” The disappointment her words brought to the boy was clear, but she didn’t want him to think that they could live with Jamie forever.

“So we will go back?” Fergus asked, his face scrunched up at the thought.

“Of course we will.” Claire swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Fergus was thinking. Living at St. Antoine meant they were risking their lives every day, especially if someone found out they would be missing today. But it wasn’t as if they had another choice.

“And the man?” The boy asked, his deep frown making him look much older than he was.

Claire glared at Fergus hoping that he wouldn’t divulge any more information, but it was already too late.

“What man?” Jamie’s eyes, red from fever but alert, found Claire’s.

“No one. Fergus, where is Murtagh?” Claire tried to change the subject of the conversation.

“He left. He said since we didn’t leave at night you decided that we’d stay. And then told me not to leave the room and left.” Fergus informed Claire. “He had business to attend to.” He added, like a proper gentleman.

“Yet, you left the room.” Claire scorned.

“Just to come here! I’m going back right now, Milady!” Fergus announced and before Claire could utter a word, he ran to the door. He opened it slightly, checking out at the corridor, and left the room leaving Jamie and Claire alone.

 

“What man?” Jamie asked again, with a frown on his face similar to the one that Fergus carried.

“Jamie, this can wait. You really need to rest.” Claire moved to the bed, sitting on Jamie’s side.

“No, it can’t.” Jamie said with bloodshot eyes.

“You’re hurt and you better sleep.” Claire repeated, caring but determined to stop the conversation. 

“I willna have my rest until ye tell me, Sassenach.” His eyes was burning in hers.

“Stubborn – ”

“Scot.” He finished for her. “Aye. Tell me.” The tiny smile on his lips made his demand softer, but not weaker.

 

Claire swallowed the lump that rose in her throat and told him about Frank’s servant and how he found where she lived and pursued her, day by day.

Jamie’s face darkened, a shadow hiding the blue of his eyes making them almost black. His stare was glued on a spot of his plaid duvet.

“Jamie? What is it? Do you feel unwell?” The inside of her wrist was already on his forehead, her other hand reaching for a wet cloth. When she moved the cloth to his forehead, he jerked away from her creating a distance between them.

“Jamie?” She tried again.

Jamie lowered his eyes on his mangled hand. “First the lad and now this. I canna believe the fool I am.”

“What?” Claire asked in her thick English accent, unsure how the lad was related to Frank’s servant.

“I left ye here, alone, even though I knew. I knew ye were in danger, I’ve seen the man wi’ my own eyes and yet, I left ye alone. I went to Comte’s estate risking yer life here and even there, I couldn’t save the boy. I did nothing, nothing.” It was a torrent of whispers, tumbling out of his chapped lips while his eyes never rose to find her. “And now I came back and ye take care of me instead of the other way around.”

“Jamie.” Claire cupped his face with her hand bringing his eyes level with hers. “You did right to go and you did everything you could to help the boy. Don’t cross yourself thinking of something that couldn’t change. As for me, I’ve been alone for quiet a while, you know. I can fend for myself. I’ve done this before.” Her voice was sure and strong, even though she knew that no one was safe in the madness they were living.

“But that was before…” Jamie trailed off.

“Before?”

“Before I met ye.” Jamie looked deep in her eyes, so much that Claire thought he could see her soul. “I wanta take care of ye, Claire.” He whispered. “And now…” His eyes left hers and he stared on his hand. “I canna.”

“Of course you can! And you know what, you stubborn Scot?” Claire said with half a smile. “I want to take care of you, too!”

That brought a smile on his coarse lips. “And ye do, Sassenach.”

“And I intend to continue, if that’s alright with you.” Claire kissed his burning forehead. “We’ll find a way. I’m staying here for now, in your protection, until you decide you’re stronger than this fever and get better!”

“For now? Ye canna possibly wanta go back to St. Antoine!” Jamie exclaimed, his eyes almost glinting with rage.

Claire had never thought that a man in so much pain could feel enraged, but apparently, she was wrong.

“I don’t want to, Jamie. But that’s my house. I’m not abandoning my house again for Frank Randall! I won’t run away from him my whole life!”

“So ye’ll wait there, till he finds ye?” Jamie was furious at her decision.

“He… He won’t find me.” Claire tried for her most affirmative tone.

“Sassenach,” he started, but winced as he moved his hand. “Claire, dinna go back there.”

“I can’t stay here either. I’m not supposed to be here!”

“Claire,” Jamie gulped. “If ye go back, and he takes ye… What am I supposed to do, Sassenach? I canna leave ye wi’ him! I canna leave ye at all!”

“Oh, you won’t leave me. He won’t find me. Fergus and I have a plan.  I don’t leave my room when Frank’s servant is around. He never saw me.”

“Aye, that’s verra wise Sassenach.” The irony in his voice stung Claire deep in her heart. She withdrew, her turn now to create some distance between them. 

 

Jamie felt her cold stare and uneven breath, the temperature in the room falling with every second. He raised his hand in an attempt to reach her, but she stood up from the bed she was sitting and walked by the window. “Mo nighean donn,” he whispered regretfully, as her brown curls got lit by the sun, a million hues of brown filling the room that reminded him of the brown highland cliffs under a grey sky; they reminded him of home. “This doesn’t guarantee that he’ll not find you, eventually.” He said in a much softer tone.

“I know.” Claire’s jaw was still set, but the frown on her face softened. “It’s the best I can do.”

“Sassenach…” Jamie didn’t continue, his thoughts about his incompetence too loud in his head. He should protect her and he was lying unable on the bed doing nothing.

“Get some sleep, Jamie.” Claire didn’t move from the window and her tone was more professional than he was used to. Cold.

“Claire…” He tried again, wishing that she’d come back to sit next to him.

She didn’t.

He rose, then, the pain running through his body like fire, burning him in the core and causing a grunt to leave his lips. That drew her attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need ye to see me, lass. I need to show ye. I didna mean to offend ye before. I’m sorry for what I said. I didna mean it that way. Ye just scared me, is all.”

Claire’s eyes softened and she moved towards him, slowly lowering him to bed. When he’s back touched the sheets again, Jamie wrapped an arm around her, holding her in place.

“Forgive me?”

A touch of a smile came to settle on her face. “Forgiven. I’m just tired of men telling me what to do. I knew you didn’t say it that way, I just…” She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. “Forgive me, too?”

“Ah, lass. There is nothing to forgive.” Jamie gave her a warm smile before adding, “Come here?”

 

It was a few inches that kept them apart and Claire lowered her face, taking his lips in hers. She kissed him softly, trying not to hurt him, but he was reckless and deepened the kiss, welcoming the pain it brought.

He’d welcome any pain coming from her.

She ached to lie next to him, tangle her feet with his in bed and feel his heartbeat under her fingertips. 

But she could do none of these yet.

Instead, she sat on the bed next to him and leaned in to kiss his broken hand. His forehead. His cheekbones. His jaw. And finally, his hungry lips that ached for her. 

 

As Claire felt his tongue grazing her bottom lip and her heart beating erratically in her chest, she wished they’d met in another era, where people would be less blood-thirsty. 

If that time would ever come.

**Author's Note:**

> My Outlander obsession finally found its way out of my head! This is my first attempt to write fanfiction and the era is inspired from Charles Dickens "A tale of two cities". I try it to be as historically accurate as possible.  
> You can also find me on Tumblr, @whiskynottea.  
> Hope you enjoy it!!


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